Mysteries and Lies
by Margaret Delancy
Summary: Kenny has been trying to find out the reasons for his powers since the incident with Cthulhu as a child, and when Butters finds a ring forged with Cthulhu's power Kenny thinks he's finally found the missing puzzle piece.
1. Chapter 1: Butters

A/N: Look who finally got off their lazy ass and uploaded this fic somewhere other than the SPBB website! This was written for the 2012 SPBB event, and I used the opportunity to experiment with different writing styles and stuff, so if you've looked at any of my other work, you'll notice some huge differences.

Mysteries and Lies

Chapter One: Butters

* * *

"Seriously, Butters?" Eric groaned out a greeting. I stood sheepishly at the door to Eric's mother's house, where Eric was still living while he was attending community college in Denver. I didn't know who else to turn to; Eric had been my best friend all throughout high school. He still he was my best friend, I liked to think. It didn't matter that we hadn't spoken face to face in two and a half years.

I knew that Eric would always be willing to support a friend in their time of need. Besides, as far as I was concerned he still owed me for all of the little bundles of cookies and pastries I'd been sending his way throughout my four years of culinary school.

I looked down at my watch. 9:30. Gosh darn it—I should have remembered that if given the choice, Eric wasn't up before noon on a Sunday; some best friend I was. Even if we had lost touch for a few years, I still thought that I knew Eric better than that.

"What do you want?" Eric asked with a sigh, opening the door and practically pulling me into the toasty-warm house. Eric must have been in an especially cheerful mood this morning, or he was simply getting sick of standing in the cold. Either way, I was grateful.

After living in LA for nearly five years, the mountain air seemed even colder than I had recalled. It didn't help that I had outgrown my winter coat, and had subsequently been spending the week and a half since I'd been back living in a permanent state of frozen in my thin-but-entirely-stylish-for-life-in-LA jacket. I really needed to remember to pick up a new coat at the mall sometime this week.

Eric's mom's house hadn't changed much in the couple of years since I'd been gone. The walls were still that cheery yellow color and pictures of Eric's progression to adulthood hung on the wall above the TV, below which Eric's Xbox 360 and additional games were scattered about.

"Well, gee, Eric," I began cheerfully. "How'd ya know I didn't come over just to say hello?" I trailed after Eric who was heading into the kitchen, no doubt in order to make himself some breakfast.

"Because," Eric stopped, and I ran into his back. "If that were the case, I'd have to kick you in the balls for waking me up early, you fucking pansy. If you even have any balls." His eyes flickered to mine and I was glad to note that there was no trace of malice in Eric's dark brown eyes other than the mild irritation at having been woken up nearly three hours before his scheduled time.

While I had been standing in the middle of the kitchen grinning to myself like an idiot at the discovery, Eric had been moving about and making himself a mediocre excuse for a breakfast. I was glad to see that Eric had finally learned to make himself a meal without his mother's help. Not that I would call cereal and toast a meal by any means. I should have offered to make Eric a welcome home breakfast, but it was a little too late for that.

Maybe I would do something special for dinner one of these nights, I thought as I followed Eric to the table with his food. I pulled out the chair across from Eric and sat down onto it, immediately resting my head in both of my hands.

"So Eric," I paused, waiting until I had all of Eric's attention before continuing. "I was thinkin'... maybe you'd be able to help me out with somethin'? I mean—you know; if you've got the time for it." Asking for favors from Eric had always made me nervous. I could see the wheels turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons of my request. "You're pretty much in the know about what's been happening around town, right?" I added for good measure. Mentioning how smart Eric was about a particular field of study—or at least pointing out how much smarter than ___you_he was—practically guaranteed that he would listen to what you had to say.

Finally after a long moment of silence Eric put down his cereal spoon and laced his hands together on the tabletop. "First of all, Butters," Eric leaned across the table towards me, narrowing his eyes on the emphasis. "I do not ___pretty much _know everything that's going on around here. While you were off having yourself a merry little fucking time in Los Angeles at your gay-ass culinary institute I was working my way up the ladder the hard way. Who else would have seen to it that the mayor was forced to step down? About time that bitch got put in her place, too." He took a large bite of cereal, wiping the milk that dribbled down his chin in the process. "But I suppose that for an old friend I might be willing to consider lending my assistance. What's got your panties in a bunch this time?"

I let out a sigh of relief. Eric was rarely this generous with his time. Unless he was pulling one of his scams where he would demand payment after he'd already helped you. No way to get around paying him that way. He had scammed me at least seven times that way in our senior year of high school alone.

It was for that reason that I hesitated before continuing, "Well, ya see, I found this ring last night and I was wondering if you might know who it belongs to." I held out my hand for him to examine the ring that had somehow attached itself to my finger.

My first weekend back, and already I was fighting to keep my sanity in this messed up town. I had almost decided not to come back—after all, what with my parents disowning me and all I didn't have much left here in South Park besides Eric to look after. And Dougie and Ike, but they were both pretty independent people and liked to spend more time alone than I was used to doing.

Somehow I had let Wendy convince me into escorting her to a welcome-home party last night—I guess most of the kids in our class who'd gone on to college were coming back into town about now—and things had gotten a little out of hand. But what else could you expect, coming from a town like South Park? I didn't have many friends in our grade, aside from Cartman and the girls, so most of my evening had been spent people watching from a nice comfy spot on Clyde Donovan's couch, just looking to see how much people had changed.

Wendy had taken off at the first chance she'd gotten—catching up with Stan, she'd said, as she took his offered hand. I let her go, of course; she deserved to have a little fun after all the hard work she'd put herself through lately.

I couldn't remember the exact moment it happened last night—but at some point, something changed. Something in the air, something inside me—I'm not really sure. But I can remember just sitting there and then all of a sudden—bam! Like something inside me snapped, I just stood up, my body moving on its own accord and leading me to this strange looking ring just lying in a darkened end of the Donovan's hallway.

I, of course, picked up the strange ring, and being the kind of guy I am, slipped it on casually as I examined the strange patterns etched into the metal. They were hieroglyphs—some kind I'd never seen before in my life. It didn't really look like anything anyone from our little town would be wearing on their finger, but then again, I hadn't actually been in South Park for years.

After all, it only takes a couple of seconds for people to change in, well, life-altering ways.

I'm thinking that last night might have been one of those times for me.

"Never seen it before," Eric told me as he squinted down at the ring. "It almost looks like something that stinky Jew-rat would wear." He added thoughtlessly with a shrug before polishing off the last of his cereal.

"You really think so? Thanks, Eric!" I responded cheerfully. If it really were Kyle's, maybe he'd know the secret to getting it off. It was probably as simple as one of those Chinese finger locks, once you knew the trick behind them.

For some reason or another, the darn ring on my finger just wouldn't come off. I had been trying everything I could think of—soaking it in water, oiling my finger and trying to tug it off, and just plain twisting it around. But none of my ideas were working in the least. Somehow the ring has decided that it'd like a permanent home, and my hand just happened to be the perfect fit, much to my despair.

With all the fretting I'd been doing lately, it took a minute or two for Eric's words to really settle into my mind. "Wait just a second. You keep track of what sort of jewelry Kyle wears?" I always knew that Eric was a little too obsessed with Kyle, but not quite to_ that_ extent.

"It—It's not—Jesus Christ, Butters," He stuttered. I haven't seen Eric so flustered in his life before, but then again, I suppose I haven't really asked him anything so strange before. I was just glad that he had already finished eating his cereal, because I didn't want to try and perform the Heimlich maneuver on someone as big boned as Eric. "It's not like there's a lot to do in this white trash town. When you left—I mean, fuck." He groaned, putting his head in both hands. "Don't make me say it, you black asshole." Eric peeked up at me through his fingers, giving me as much of an imploring look as I know I'd ever get from him.

I'm not going to lie—it was tempting to wait it out; to see how long it would take Eric to crack and reveal that he did, in fact, consider me one of his friends. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. Regardless of how Eric was constantly treating his friends, I knew he was really a caring person deep down.

Really deep down.

But he'd probably been through enough as it was, I'd considered. Eric wasn't very trusting in general, so I knew that without me around for the past three years he'd probably been living most of his life in seclusion. Just the fact that he'd said as much as he had spoke volumes as to just _how much _he'd grown since I'd been gone.

"It's okay, Eric. I understand," I told him with a smile. And in that moment, I realized that I truly did understand. All this time I'd thought that it was me who needed to get out from under Eric's thumb, but maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe I had been hindering Eric's behavior all this time.

Eric just scowled back at me before standing up to take his dishes to the sink and proceeding to wash them. Another improvement, I noted. The Eric I left behind would have left the dishes for his mother to clean up.

"Don't go reading into things that aren't there, you hear me? The only ones that stuck around this shitty town are Kenny, Tweek, and Craig. That doesn't leave me any options in terms of finding people to do my bidding. Tweek just flips out the second anybody tries to fucking talk to him, and Kenny and Craig are both so god damn stubborn that they won't listen to a thing I say." Eric stopped in mid-rinse of the dishes, not bothering to stop the hot water from running down his chubby fingers as he glanced back at me.

"Say, Butters?" Eric asked, his voice raising a couple of octaves in the process. "You like helping out your friends, right? Especially your best friend?"

"Well sure, I suppose. I mean, you did just help me out with this ring and all. So whaddya need?" Eric smiled in that way that told me it might not be such a great idea to trust the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"I need you to talk to Wendy for me." Eric replied seriously. Now—I knew that regardless of the persona that Eric projected to the outside world, he was truly a self-conscious guy like the rest of us. But never before had he asked me to talk to a ___girl _for him. I must've been making a pretty funny face, because he glared and stomped over, looking like he was getting ready to throw a fit. "You better knock it the fuck off and listen to me, Butters. I need you to win Wendy over for me—tell her what an upstanding and awesome guy I am—okay? We're going to need her on our side here in a few months, and you are already friends with the skanky bitch, therefore you need to talk to her."

He was making a logical argument. And although I was curious about what we'd need her for, I knew Eric would just throw another fit if I brought it up now.

"Yes sir!" I nodded. He seemed pleased at that, and pulled away from the table and out of my personal space, which he had been leaning into angrily.

"Good. Now get to work! And make sure you keep in touch with Ike; the kid's been talking about you nonstop. It's fucking annoying."

I always found it a little strange that someone like Kenny would choose to stick around South Park. He always seemed like the type of kid that wanted—well, out. I was the same way; it was one of the few things I'd assumed we'd had in common. That's why it had come as such a surprise to me when Eric had mentioned his name—and when I ran into him later, sitting on Stan and Kyle's raggedy old couch.

It hadn't been hard to find Stan and Kyle's little apartment with the directions Eric had given me. It was tucked away, hidden above one of the newer buildings they had built in South Park recently. As I walked slowly up the stairs leading to their floor, I couldn't help but fiddle with the ring that was stuck on my finger anxiously.

What if they couldn't help me? Stan and Kyle were the smartest people I knew, if neither of them could tell me anything about this weird ring... I shook my head, forcing the thoughts from my mind. I was at their door, anyway. No use standing outside worrying like an idiot. I was sure they would be able to help.

I knocked on the door, waiting patiently as I heard voices approaching; Stan's deep, playful tone, and Kyle's slightly higher and clipped one. The door swung open and Kyle stood at the door, blinking at me with his lips pursed.

He'd cut his hair. It was the first thing I noticed, of course, because all throughout our school years he'd been so darn self-conscious about it. I had always been jealous of his hair, to be honest—but I'd never tell him that, unless I wanted to get ranted at for a good half hour. Stan had never been shy about telling Kyle how much he loved his hair, though, and usually Kyle took his compliments with a weary acceptance. But it looked like Kyle hadn't taken Stan's opinions into consideration when he chopped his curls so short against his head that they hardly began to curl at all.

"Butters? When did you get home?"

"Jeez, Kyle! That's no way to greet a guest. Were you really so wasted last night that you don't remember seeing Butters?" Stan asked, appearing at Kyle's side. He opened the door wider, pulling Kyle aside and ushering me inside. "I'm sorry—he's still not house trained." Kyle huffed, crossing his arms and angling an irritated glance at Stan.

"I wouldn't have had to drink so much if someone would shut up for ten seconds about Wendy-fucking-Testaburger." Stan took Kyle's irritation in stride, laughing at his barb.

I knew that I couldn't even begin to understand the complex relationship that Stan and Kyle shared, but just seeing their interactions has always made me a little wistful. To be so close to someone else that literally had no censor; that you knew that no matter what they would always be there to help and support you if you needed it... I had always envied the relationship that they shared.

I wondered if everyone had that one person that they could connect to on some higher level that was beyond comprehension.

Kenny's dark eyes suddenly appeared in my vision—and I could've sworn the ring on my finger ___pulsed__._ He was there, sitting on the worn couch in the corner of the small living room, watching me with narrowed eyes. My stomach fluttered at the intense stare and I broke eye contact, turning my attention back to Stan and Kyle, who were still bickering as they made their way to stand beside me.

"So Butters—what can we do for you?" Kyle asked as he shrugged out of Stan's arm across his shoulder. Stan grinned at the action and moved on to my shoulders.

"I'm sure you didn't come by just to marvel at our totally awesome apartment—but while you're here," Stan drawled, "I'll give you the grand tour." Kyle scoffed, sitting on the couch next to Kenny. "Don't worry Kyle; I won't show him the massive collection of porn I saw you stashing in your bedroom closet."

"Are you holding out on me?" I heard Kenny murmur to Kyle—but it seemed almost forced to my ears. I wondered if he was still dead-set against not speaking to me, as he'd been throughout high school.

"Damn it, Stan! You know that's not true!" Kyle flushed. I couldn't fight the smile as I thought of the two of them living together, getting in each other's hair like this every day. Stan laughed again, as if Kyle's irritation was an everyday occurrence; and I'm sure it was, with the constant teasing Kyle had to put up with on Stan's part.

Stan took me around the house, only stopping briefly in each room before returning back to the living room. The pair had obviously just moved into the place; boxes were still piled high in the living room and from what Stan showed me in the kitchen and the rest of the house, they'd only unpacked the necessities so far. I had to remind myself to bring a batch of cookies next time I stopped by—I should've made some before coming over today.

"...go see that movie sometime next week—oh, Butters; what are you doing next week? The new Terrance and Philip movie is finally coming to South Park, are you in?"

"Oh, gosh, fellas. I didn't even know they were still makin' those old things. How long have those two been at it now? Nearly twenty years?" Kenny and Kyle looked at me like I was crazy, but really, who had time to watch TV these days? For fear of alienating myself even more than I was doing already, I quickly added, "But they sure are great, aren't they? Sure, I'll come along."

He nodded, but still seemed a bit put off by my first response. "Alright—but don't invite Cartman. I can't stand that douche bag. How you and Ike still manage to put up with that fat piece of shit is beyond—"

"Kyle," Stan cut in before Kyle could go on another of his endless rants about what a bad person Eric was, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry!" He said, more out of instinct than feeling, "Did you know he wrote me letters every single week that I was away? What kind of sick freak ___does _that?"

"I wrote you almost every day, dude," Stan responded, looking a little bashful. Kyle paused only momentarily, studying Stan's face.

I sat down on the couch next to Kenny—and instantly regretted it. He turned his focus entirely to me, staring at me in a distinctly uncomfortable way. I fought the urge to meet his stare, watching Stan and Kyle with a determined interest.

"That's different, Stan. You and I are friends; Cartman was writing to tell me how much he hates my guts."

"Butters," Kenny prodded, tapping me hesitantly on the arm. It was something so out of character for a guy like Kenny; I couldn't help but glance over. His brows were knitted, and he was leaning closer now than he was before, as if he was searching for something.

"Whu—what is it?" I asked, leaning back a bit when he narrowed his eyes at me again and leaned even closer into my space.

"What are you doing here?" I know I'm not very good at hiding my emotions; my shock must have been evident judging by the face he was making back at me. It was just—what sort of question is that? I didn't believe he had any right to ask me that question, considering this wasn't his house either, but I answered him anyway.

"Oh, well, you know—" Jeez, it was so hard to concentrate with Kenny focusing on me so intently. Had I always been so conscious of him? I couldn't seem to remember. "Do you recognize this?" Flustered, I shoved my hand in Kenny's general direction. He looked at me with that same thoughtful expression, but didn't otherwise comment on my behavior. I could've sworn I'd seen some flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he denied it immediately.

"No..." He replied slowly. "Should I?" His tone must have caught Stan and Kyle's attention, because they both came over to take a look at the ring as well, curiosity apparent on their faces.

"The fuck? Are you trying to tell us you hooked up with some chick back in LA?" Stan asked as he tilted his head and squinted, trying to make out the patterns on the ring, I assumed.

"What? N-no!" His question shouldn't have had me as flustered as it did, but something had me feeling a little lightheaded all of a sudden. I couldn't concentrate on any one particular thing; I looked back and forth between all three of them before continuing. "I found the darn thing."

"Let me see it," Kenny glanced at both Stan and Kyle as if silently asking for permission before his eyes flickered back to mine. Why he would feel the need to ask them before approaching me was beyond me. It wasn't like I'd ever told him explicitly to stay away from me—he seemed to do a fine job of that all on his own.

Well, from there I'm not really sure what happened next. My breath hitched in nervous anticipation—of what, I wasn't sure. Kenny's fingertips brushed mine, pulling my hand, the ring, closer.

And then, the universe fell apart around us.


	2. Chapter 2: Kenny

Mysteries and Lies

Chapter Two: Kenny

* * *

I was dying.

It was the only reasonable explanation my mind could come up with as the fragments of my subconscious slowly slipped away and my soul was ripped from my body mercilessly. The only warning that this time was different than all the others was the eerie lack of pain that usually accompanied my deaths. It was strange enough to throw me into a panic, something I hadn't done over a death since I was ten years old.

Dying was so common to me—as familiar as the back of my hand—but this time—the last thing I could remember was sitting in Stan and Kyle's little apartment and letting them regale me with stories from their college days. After that... all I could recall was the warmth of Butters Stotch's warm hand clasped firmly in my own.

Just as abruptly as my soul had been thrown out into the universe I was grounded once again, flung like a rag doll into my destination, whatever it may be. I gasped for air as the pieces of my body were once again put back into place. It was always nauseating, and in the hundreds of times I'd experienced death I still hadn't managed to get used to the feeling of being put back together.

It was cold; not something I generally associated with Heaven ___or _Hell. The surrounding air—no, water, I realized, was frigid, and the weight of my thick winter jacket was steadily pulling me under. I panicked and pushed in the direction that I hoped was up, fighting to break the surface of the water.

It was like being born again.

I opened my eyes to such a bright, vivid blue sky that I immediately winced, clenching them shut once more. Jesus Christ, could the sky even ___be _that bright? Contrary to the chilling waters below, the air on the surface was warm on my skin, almost too hot, even. I felt almost as if until this point I had been living my life in some sort of gray area, a middle ground, and as if the world was finally being opened for the first time.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the overwhelming light, and I gingerly began to take in my surroundings. The water was a crystalline blue, untainted even as it washed onto the small beach nearby and back out again. The only thing visible past the small strip of beach was thousands of strange, almost mushroom-like trees so huge that they must have been allowed to grow for hundreds of years undisturbed.

Just where the fuck is this? My mind was racing. If I hadn't died, then what the hell was going on? I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been here before, but that was impossible. I had hardly been out of the state of Colorado my entire life, and I definitely would have remembered a place like this.

I flung the wet mass of hair from his eyes. Okay. I just needed to think this through carefully. This...fucked up visit to a foreign land had to have been caused by something I'd done out of the ordinary. Not that out of the ordinary was exactly... uncommon in a place like South Park. So that didn't really help me at all, did it? Fuck.

A flash of color out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. Butters was there, floating on the surface of the waves. It was impossible to tell from this distance whether or not he was breathing.

"Butters!" I called, pushing through the water to reach him when Butters didn't respond. He was out cold, but still breathing, thank God.

I wasn't sure what I would have done if I'd inadvertently gotten the kid killed. Because even though I wasn't sure___how _this was happening, I did know why. It was this goddamn curse that my parents had saddled me with.

At the age of nine I'd faced off against Cthulhu, and come as close to finding out just what the fuck I was in my entire life. Of course, that goddamn Bradley Biggle kid stepped in and screwed everything up, but since then I'd been secretly doing my own research on the Necronomicon and the various curses and spells that could be found in the book. Information was sparse, and getting the few cult members in South Park to talk was harder, even under the guise of Mysterion.

And after years of researching to try to figure out just what I was, I ___finally _had something to run with here.

But for it to involve ___Butters_? I found myself frowning down at the unconscious boy as I dragged him to the sandy shores of the beach. I wasn't used to involving anyone in my business, aside from Henrietta, and Butters was sure to demand answers once he woke up. I had hardly spoken to the boy since middle school—even though he'd always been around.

I vaguely remembered an incident our freshman year involving Cartman and Bebe dressing him up as one of the cheerleaders for one reason or another. I think that might have been the last time I'd had an actual conversation with him. He'd been hiding out in the boys' locker rooms, flustered and on the verge of tears as he tried unsuccessfully to open his locker to grab a change of clothes. I only happened to be passing through for a reason I can't remember now, but when I saw Butters with his back turned I was almost sure he was one of the chicks. Bebe had done one hell of a job on him, pinning his unruly hair up and shaving his legs so they looked almost as soft as a woman's in the short skirt of the cheerleader's uniform. I can't remember anything we actually talked about that day, but I do remember opening his locker for him and fighting to keep my hands to myself when he smiled up at me gratefully.

Once we were both out of the water the warmth of the sun took hold immediately. I shrugged out of my sweatshirt, tossing it to the side as I sat cross-legged in front of Butters. He looked nothing like he had that afternoon in the locker rooms, done up almost as if for me alone. Now we were older, and I didn't think he could pull off the feminine outfit if he'd wanted to. The softness in his round cheeks was still there, but even in sleep I could see the roughness that had been hewn since I'd been this close to him last.

And no way in Hell was I giving ___Butters _mouth to mouth. I would simply wait for him to wake up; after all, I was pretty sure that Butters hadn't swallowed that much water. He was still breathing.

My worries were alleviated a minute later when Butters drew a sharp breath, his eyelids fluttering open. Jesus, this kid had the longest lashes I'd seen on a boy, aside from Craig.

"Kenny? What happened?" Butters immediately asked. He sat up wearily and looked around, brows furrowed in thought. His voice was steadier than I would have expected it to be in a situation like this. The Butters I'd known as a child would have been stumbling over his words, worrying about what his parents would do when he got home.

If we got home.

But, strangely, I didn't feel as if Butters and I had drifted apart in the least. It really had been too long since we'd spoken; but in a small town like South Park there was really no room to grow apart.

Butters still had that same annoyingly innocent air about him that he'd had all throughout our childhood. I had hoped that the kid would have outgrown it with the time he'd spent at college, but some people were just made to be as insanely naïve, I supposed. It had a lot to do with his eyes. Those wide, cornflower blue eyes that would observe everything with such an avid curiosity.

He was watching me now, blinking up at me as he waited for an answer. Right. Shit, how was I going to explain the situation without giving him a panic attack?

"Kenny?" Butters asked again. I stood up. I needed to get out of Butters' general vicinity. The openness in his expression was really grating on my already-frayed nerves.

I paced along the small strip of beach, moving between the stand of trees along the bank to Butters' side, then back again. "Don't freak out," I began, glancing back to gauge Butters' expression. Of course he was doing just that, wringing his hands together nervously, "But I think I might have accidentally sent us to an alternate dimension or something."

"An alternate dimension?" Butters parroted as the color drained from his cheeks. "You can't be serious. Are you foolin' with me again, Kenny? C'mon, you're supposed to be an adult now; tell me the truth!" I shook my head with a sigh, watching as Butters frantically searched our surroundings for any sort of clue as to our whereabouts. It was nice to know that he was reacting just as I'd expected—having ___anything _go as expected at this point was a plus.

"I ___am _serious. What reason would I have to lie to you about something like this, Butters? Who do you think I am, that fat ass Cartman? I'm not an asshole to people for no reason." Butters seemed to take some stock in this, even though I distinctly remembered Butters as Cartman's only friend all throughout high school. I wasn't even sure if they were friends; Butters may have just been the only one of us that would still put up with Cartman's crap after so long. I knew that after living in the same town as Cartman and having to put up with his shit for nearly all twenty-four years of my life, I could hardly stand to be in the same general area as the fat ass. But hey, more power to Butters if he was able to hold a conversation with Cartman without needing to fight the urge to punch him in the face.

"So what now, then? Are you sayin' we're stuck here forever?" Butters asked, his voice wavering slightly. Jesus help me. If Butters started crying I was going to go insane.

He didn't start crying, for the moment, but instead unzipped his jacket and slipped out of it, tying the turquoise jacket around his waist by the sleeves.

The flash of silver on his finger caught my attention. That's right, it hadn't been ___me_. It had been that fucking ring that sent us here, I was almost positive! It was all coming back to me now. The strange writing on the sides of the ring, and the odd feelings that even now were hanging in the air, drawing me closer to Butters, closer to the ring. I'd seen that writing before, just like I'd felt like I'd been here before. It had something to do with the Necronomicon; I just needed to figure out what it was, exactly.

Apparently Butters thought that now was not a good time to figure that out, though, since he was already up and heading into the thick forest separating us from the rest of the strange place we'd fallen into. Forget about figuring out how to get home. Yeah, that sounded like a perfect plan.

"Butters! Where the hell do you think you're going?" I demanded. I scooped up my jacket and jogged over to Butters, who was already weaving a path through the large trees.

"Where does it look like I'm goin'? I'm lookin' for someone to tell us where we are."

I grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. "Butters. Listen to me." Butters sighed, crossing his arms and turning to face me with a pout.

"What is it?" I was surprised by the exasperation in his tone, though I didn't let it show on my face. Butters growing a backbone? It was unheard of; that was one reason Cartman was so fond of him.

"Just stop for one goddamn second." Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I'd regret smashing out that little bit of defiant light in his eyes, but it would make things infinitely easier if I was fully in control of the situation. Especially if we___were _where I suspected. "Listen. What do you hear?" I asked, raising a hand to gesture at the hugely overgrown trees around us.

Butters drew a breath and went completely still, doing just as I ordered. I could have laughed at how intently he followed directions, even silencing his breathing to do as he was told. It probably came from years of being ordered around by Cartman, or his parents.

Butters' parents were legendary for the way they treated him growing up. The shit they put him through was almost unbelievable; if my childhood hadn't been just as fucked up I probably wouldn't have believed half of what Butters would come to school telling us. I wondered if things were still that bad for him at home, or if his parents had finally realized that an alphabetically organized pantry was not the key to happiness.

"Well, I don't hear nothin'!" Butters responded, staring up at the trees in wonder. "Not even a bird chirpin' away, or any forest critters scuttlin' about!"

"Exactly."

It was as if time was frozen around us. There was nothing—no one around, and aside from the faint whoosh of the water behind us and the occasional rustle of leaves from the breeze blowing through the forest, all was quiet. Even as rustic as South Park was, if you were to step out your front door the sounds of cars, of children playing, and celebrities shouting would generally greet you.

There was ___nothing _here.

Even the sound of my breath seemed abnormally loud to me, and this was coming from someone who had spent a good portion of his life living in silence.

"So will you please stay close? I don't want to feel responsible when you start spacing out and end up falling off a cliff or some shit."

"Alright, alright. Jeez."

We continued through the forest in silence, moving together this time. I couldn't help glancing over at Butters every couple of minutes, under the guise of making sure he wasn't about to hurt himself in some fucking retarded way. The mushroom-capped trees were successful at blocking out most of the sunlight and I had to wince to make out any detail in my companion's face.

If I had been by myself I probably would have found some way to ensure my swift death. After spending a few days in Hell I'd be sure to end up back in South Park that way—but I couldn't very well leave Butters stranded here by himself with no sure way to return to our world. It just wasn't fucking ___fair _the way the world worked, sometimes. If I was going to be stuck with this curse for the rest of my life, shouldn't I be able to use it to my full advantage?

"So, ah, Kenny?" Butters asked awkwardly. Aw, goddammit, I knew it was too much to ask that Butters wouldn't actually want to ___talk _to me. Regardless, I found myself still a little annoyed at the fact that I didn't know as much about Butters as an adult as I did as a child. I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes, letting him know that he had my attention. He must have been feeling the same as I was, although I didn't think I'd changed all that much since school let out. Or since we were kids, for that matter. He frowned slightly, observing me so thoughtfully that I had to fight the urge to snap at him to knock it off. "Why didn't you leave South Park?"

"Why did you come back?" I countered instinctively. Butters' mouth opened slightly, though he didn't speak. Guess he hadn't been expecting that one.

"You first." He huffed.

Oh, so he wanted an actual answer, did he? I really wasn't much for idle conversation, but just this once I figured I'd humor him. If it would help a bit of the tension that was rolling off of him in waves I'd do just about anything.

"Karen."

"What?"

"I stayed in South Park to make sure that Karen turned out okay." I told him between gritted teeth. "After all, it's not like I had enough fucking money to go to college or something. I hardly graduated high school as it was." It was true; without Kyle's annoyingly persistent attitude I probably ___wouldn't _have graduated. It's not like I've got any sort of future to look forward to; my best bet is to put it all on Karen. She's going to get out of this shitty town if it's the last thing I do. Butters was still looking at me like he'd found a particularly interesting puzzle to solve, and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I was half tempted to slip back into my jacket, if only so I'd be able to pull the hood up over my face. I guess it's true about old habits. "I can't take Karen with me, so I figure that I might as well stick around and make South Park the best I can, for her." I should have just shut my mouth, because everything went downhill from here.

Butters' eyes lit up, and he gave me a sickeningly sweet smile. "Oh, ___Kenny_," he sighed, clasping his hands together. And damn it if the way he fucking sighed my name didn't turn me on. I mean—I know what people think about me—and contrary to popular belief I am actually very particular about who I sleep with. I don't just stick my dick up anybody. And Butters Stotch was not and would never be on my to-do list. "I always knew you'd make a fantastic older brother! She really deserves it," I nodded absentmindedly, too preoccupied with my body's response to pretend to actually give a shit about what was spouting from Butters' mouth. "Boy, what I wouldn't give to have an older brother like you; or any sibling, I suppose..." He trailed off, and I couldn't help but feel thankful that I wasn't related to the Stotches. I definitely draw the line at incest.

Not that I was planning on having sex with Butters or anything.

"Go on then—tell me why the fuck you're here, already." I said with a frown. Butters mirrored my expression, but nodded, conceding to my request.

"Isn't that kind of a loaded question, Ken? I mean—you asked me the same thing before, too. Am I not ___supposed _to be here?" He hesitated, falling a step behind. Damn it, I hadn't meant to upset the kid—it was just that something about his presence was making my insides turn to knots.

"I don't care ___where _you decide to spend the rest of your life. Don't get the wrong idea, here." I glanced back at him. "I just thought—you know, there was that whole thing a few years ago, with your parents." Okay, maybe that hadn't been the best thing to bring up.

"Right. That." He responded dully, "Can we not talk about that?" He offered no more on the subject; or any subject, for that matter. I sighed, kicking a rock out of my path as an uncomfortable silence wedged its way between us.

The forest ahead of us split, pouring a blinding amount of sunlight down from above just as it had done on the beach behind us. I was once again struck with a strange sense of belonging, as if my body was reacting to something I'd once experienced long before I was born. I stepped down upon the threshold of the great, sprawling city, Butters at my side.

In spite of the sense of belonging I couldn't shake, there was also the strange urging of my brain to take Butters and go back—back home, back to the beach where we landed—anywhere but this city. There was an evil presence here and I knew that I wouldn't be able to protect Butters from any of the shit I instinctively knew was going to go down.

"Kenny?" Butters asked hesitantly. I knew that my demeanor was probably scaring Butters more than the overall experience was. After all, fucked up things seemed to be attracted to South Park in a way that I would never understand. But it was my role, after all, to be the silent leader amongst our friends. I couldn't allow fear to break my mask now. "Are we goin' down there? It's awful quiet—I mean, d'ya think anybody's there? Those buildings look pretty old."

He was right; the city was huge, the buildings all intricately carved from the surrounding bedrock with such precision that I would have expected to see ___some _sign of life inhabiting the place. Even as we stood upon the cliffs high above the city, looking down into the valley far beyond our reach, not one tiniest sign of movement was seen. All the temples and pillared buildings built with such care; all the winding pathways leading to and from the city, leading to the canals of water that were weaved throughout the entirety of the city were all _empty_. The buildings themselves appeared to be built recently; merely the architecture they were made from looked to be centuries old. Aeons, even.

I looked at Butters. He was scared, that much was certain. But there was that spark in his eyes, that glimmer that I couldn't recall being there when we had been growing up. If Butters wasn't going to back down, well then, goddammit, neither was I.

"Well?" I asked, channeling all of Mysterion's willpower. "Are you coming, or what?" Butters hesitated for the briefest of seconds before nodding and moving closer to my side. Together we followed the worn path through the brush that led to the outskirts of the ancient city.

As we got closer, I was able to pinpoint exactly what had been bothering me about the temples of this nameless city—the proportions of the entire city was ___off_. Things were short where they should have been huge; towering, even. As we grew closer and closer it only became more apparent, and the uneasiness settling in the pit of my stomach seemed to grow with each step.

"Maybe we should just stay here," Butters suggested, slowing to a stop. "I'm sure Stan and Kyle are lookin' for us, right?"

"I doubt it." The frankness in my tone probably caught him off guard, for he let out a whimper, mashing his knuckles together in that awkward manner that only Butters could seem to get away with. "Look," I said, turning around to face him. "We can sit here waiting for help that's never going to come, or we can go over ___there_," I pointed to the buildings not far away, "and get some fucking answers."

"W-well, alright then, I'm right behind ya," Butters nodded a little unconvincingly, but stepped forward nonetheless. We set off again, and the crushing weight of uneasiness began to lift once we took a few tentative steps into the actual city.

It was still so quiet, but I couldn't help feeling grateful that some shit-eating monsters hadn't come out and attempted to kill me yet. That would be just my luck, wouldn't it?

We could now see all the distorted features of the city. The dirt roads woven throughout the city seemed impossibly wide for the small size of each building. Each one was literally carved into the rock that had been resting here, making the temples and houses and everything else seem scattered and uneasily planned.

The whistling of the wind picked up around us as we traveled down one of the many divergent roads, kicking up dirt and sending it in all directions. I tried to remember what Henrietta told me once about the birthplaces of the Old Ones, the Gods. She mentioned a sprawling city by the sea, once thriving and full of life—but quickly abandoned when the sea dried up and turned into nothing more than a desert.

It was supposedly the city that Abdul Alhazred, the author of the Necronomicon, dreamed of the night before he wrote the couplet that started setting everything in motion for me back in fourth grade.

_"That is not dead which can eternal lie,_

_And with strange aeons can even death may die."_

Butters froze, glancing over at me with the strangest expression I'd ever seen on his face.

"...What?" He asked quietly, as if the wind its self was attempting to pick up on his words. "What did you say?"___Had _I said that out loud? I opened my mouth, unsure of how to respond—until a loud whirring filled the silence—so loud that both of us stopped to cover our ears in anguish.

"Jesus Christ!" I shouted, trying to squint through the sudden onslaught of dust and dirt that was flying around us. It was coming from Butters—from the ring on his hand. We had to figure out some way to get that damn thing off his hand before it got us both killed.

Our eyes met through the chaos—at least, I like to think they had—and I reached for him, tugging him by the arm so that he was flush against me. And wouldn't you know it, the ring quit it's screaming, and the wind died back down to a normal breeze.

We stood there for a second, both of us panting, clinging to one another in confusion.

"Wh-what the fuck was ___that_?!" Butters shouted. He must've been afraid to detach himself from my side too quickly, judging from the way he kept his arm looped through my own while he attempted to tug the ring off his finger again. "I just—want to—go ___home__!_"

"Butters. Butters, dude! I don't think that's going to help anything, alright?" He frowned, looking down—at the ring or the ground, I wasn't sure which. I was instantly reminded of when we were kids, when he would make that same expression when we used to tell Butters that he wasn't cool enough to hang out with us. "Let's just keep going. Maybe... maybe someone is—"

The ground under our feet began to tremble, and it wasn't from the ring this time. From the way Butters was clutching my arm you'd think the earth was going to split from under us and send us falling into Hell. But I suppose what came crawling out of the temple nearby looked like it could have come straight from Hell.

I couldn't even begin to describe what fuck was coming toward us— it must have been whatever built this fucked up city, though. I only managed a quick glance before Butters was tugging me backwards. The monsters were almost crocodile-like with long, scaly bodies and their thin stubby legs were complete with almost human-like hands and feet. Just the sight of the creatures was making my stomach churn.

"K-Kenny! What are you waiting for?! We need to get out of here!" I stumbled along behind Butters, for some reason unable to make my feet move of their own accord. The creatures moaned after us, all of them coming out from the recesses of the city now that they knew they had company.

One temple—built directly into the face of the cliffs—drew Butters' attention more than the rest. There were no creatures lurking nearby to frighten him away, and since I wasn't thinking clearly enough to warn him against it, Butters dragged us inside.

He hesitated before going into the temple—after all, who knew for sure what we were going to find inside? It had been the only building we'd passed so far that had an opening tall enough for us to pass through without ducking. It was hardly tall enough for us to stand upright in the small cavern as it was.

Our footsteps echoed on the dull gray bedrock below our feet. Luckily enough, the temple was well light enough to see by with just the light from the open doorway pouring in. There were no lamps anywhere in the vicinity, not that I would have advised lighting them for fear of giving our hiding spot away.

Butters slowly loosened his grip on my arm as the both of us waited for the sounds of the creatures that were no doubt looking for us. When several seconds passed and nothing happened I began to relax.

"Hey Ken, look at these designs. Have you ever seen anything like 'em before?" Butters had wandered to the other side of the cavern, down on his knees as he peered at the carvings chiseled into the bedrock. I glanced back at the entrance one last time before squatting down beside Butters to have a look.

And goddammit, of course the carvings ___were _familiar. They were something that Henrietta had shown me on more than one occasion; one that now told me ___exactly _where we were.

Before I had a chance to tell Butters, a loud, furious snarling filled the area—almost dog-like in style—but this creature was definitely no dog I'd ever seen. Creeping through a lower doorway that led deeper into the cave was another one of the monsters, this one draped in golden silks. And looking much, much, angrier; if I was reading the emotion on its cat-like face.

It made a leap for us, snapping its elongated jaws menacingly. Fuck, this thing was going to rip us to shreds.

I did the only thing I could think of; I grabbed Butters by the scruff of his collar and hoisted him up, carrying him as fast and as far from the temple as I could. Butters wrapped his arms around my neck, his fingers clutching at my shirt in fear—and that's the last thing I can remember.

I woke up in my bed at home, a cold sweat covering my forehead and the feel of Butters Stotch in my arms still fresh in my mind.


	3. Chapter 3: Butters

Mysteries and Lies

Chapter Three: Butters

* * *

_"...I guess you were lost when I met you. Still there were tears in your eyes. So out of trust, and I knew no more than mysteries and lies—"_

I awoke to the jingle blaring from my phone at an unnecessarily high level, and frantically scrambled to silence the darn thing before it gave me a heart attack.

"___Butters? _Butters, goddammit, I know you're there, you asshole!" Eric's angry tone snapped me out of my thoughts, and I stared down at the phone in my hand for a minute before pressing it to my ear.

"Well hey there, Eric." He sounded irritated; I wasn't really awake and functioning enough to deal with Eric when he was in one of his moods.

"What the fuck are you _doing_? I was on the phone for like, ten minutes waiting for you to answer, prick! You know what—just get your fucking ass down here now. Ike says he's got something for you." Eric didn't give me a chance to respond before hanging up with a terse, "now."

I yawned, blinking up at the ceiling and feeling that something just didn't feel ___right _in the world. Aside from the whole visiting a nameless city, getting chased by strange reptile creatures, and somehow ending up back in my own bed, of course.

Except that this ___wasn't _my bed. Not anymore, at least. I was back at my parents' house of all places.

Let me clarify something here. Since I came back to South Park, I have been renting a small, one bedroom apartment on the other side of town so that I don'trun the risk of happening upon my parents on the street by accident. To end up in their _house _was more than I was ready to handle at the moment.

Everything in the room was the same as I'd left it, surprisingly. I had expected them to get rid of any trace that I existed after our last fight. My favorite purple curtains were still hanging in the window, and the collection of pictures I'd accumulated over the years were still tacked on the bulletin board next to the desk.

A wave of nostalgia washed over me. What I wouldn't give to be a kid again; to have nothing more to worry about in the world except what mom is making for dinner and what hair-brained scheme Eric had planned for us next.

I pulled a couple of pictures off the board, flipping through them absently as I contemplated an escape route. One of Ike and I back in high school, studying for some test, if the books and papers scattered around us was any indication.

The next picture was Dougie and I as kids—we'd lost touch shortly after I left South Park, and now I wondered if he ever got out of town like he had always wanted. Dougie had always been a great sidekick and an even better friend.

The last one was Stan, Kyle, Eric, Kenny and I at one of the boys' birthday parties. We looked pretty young—and judging from the way Kenny's hand was on my shoulder in a friendly way, this had been before our freshman year of high school. Before he decided that I wasn't worth the effort any longer.

I had to get out of here.

My mother could have been downstairs that very second, and I didn't think she'd take kindly to her disowned child running rampant through her house without her knowledge or approval. Not that I'd ___ever _been very good about getting her approval in the first place.

I gathered up a few of my possessions; mostly the things on my desk, and pulled open the door on my closet to see what else I could find. It was full of boxes, some mine, but mostly things that had been packed away after I'd left.

Hidden between a couple of boxes in the corner of the closet was a glimmer of familiar silver. I looked around the room self-consciously—as if anyone was there to see me, anyway—and shoved the boxes out of my way. There on the floor was my helmet—Professor Chaos' helmet. Honestly, I was surprised it was still here. I hadn't touched the darn thing since 6th grade, when I hit my first growth spurt and outgrew the rest of my costume. Looking a bit closer I spotted my gloves and cape on the floor too. I scooped them up, adding them to my growing pile on the bed. Might as well take them with me for nostalgia's sake, right?

With everything I wanted gathered, I shoved it into the old backpack I'd found in the closet and slung it over my shoulder. Briefly I considered the option of climbing out the window and shimmying down the drainpipe—but I would have to face my parents sooner or later; might as well get it over with.

I sucked in a shaky breath as I opened the bedroom door and began my unsteady decent down the stairs. There was definitely someone down there; I could hear shuffling in the kitchen. Judging from the overall quietness and the time of day, I'd bet all of my meager savings that it was my mother.

Sweet smells from the kitchen wafted to my nose as I reached the bottom of the staircase. A couple of steps into the living room and I could make out my mother's thin frame bustling around the kitchen. I watched her for a couple of seconds, running through in my mind just how this conversation was sure to go. At least my father wasn't at home.

"...Mom?" That tiny voice couldn't have been my own, could it?

"Butters?" She asked, astonishment coloring her tone. I cringed automatically, unable to even look her in the eye as I stood before her. Oh Jesus, I thought we were past this.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" She demanded. I finally looked up, into her face, her eyes. She only seemed mildly irritated rather than furious like she had been last time; but I supposed that two years was enough time for even her to cool off.

"Hi, mom," I floundered under her cool stare. "I was just—just comin' by to pick some stuff up." I shifted the bag on my back, before continuing. "A-and I still have my set of keys, remember?"

"What are you doing here," she repeated, her voice rising slightly. It suddenly occurred to me that she would have no reason to have known that I was even back in town to begin with.

"Didn't you hear? I-I finished my degree; Tweek's parents—they gave me a job working at their coffee shop."

"Well isn't that lovely. 80,000 dollars and all you've got to show for it is a job in a ___coffee shop_." Her condescending tone was more than I could handle at the moment.

"Look, mom. I'm sorry that I lied to you and dad about school. ___I'm sorry. _B-but if I was honest with you, you wouldn't have let me go, and I'd still be ___here_, miserable. I don't regret that."

She didn't say anything. I watched the slender column of her throat as she swallowed, the yellow-blonde of her hair as she ran her hands through it raggedly. She sighed—the tiniest breath of air—and held out her palm.

"Give me the key."

Slowly, I did as she asked and pulled out my set of keys, hoping all the while hoping that she would stop me. Of course she didn't; my mother could be one stubborn woman when it came down to getting what she wanted. I pressed the small piece of metal into her hand and turned to the door.

"You say you're so miserable here, Butters. Then what are you doing back?"

"I'm not so sure anymore." I opened the door, stepping out of my mother's life for the last time.

It wasn't worth the effort to bother fighting with Eric about what time I was supposed to head over to his house, so I made my way over without taking a shower, bag still slung over my shoulder and feeling pretty bad overall.

The only thing keeping me from simply blowing Eric off was Ike—I still hadn't seen him since I'd been home, and I was really missing the kid. Sure, we'd talked while I was away at school; he'd even helped me with my American history homework a couple of times—but that just wasn't the same. I wondered how much he'd grown since I'd seen him last. Probably sprouted up like a bean stock; the last time I'd seen ___anyone _from South Park was two years ago, before my parents decided that they were better off without me. Ike had just been hitting that age where boys grew a foot almost overnight when it had happened.

"Good morning, Butters!" Liane greeted me cheerfully as she answered the door. She pulled me into a one armed hug as she asked, "So how's my favorite little man? Eric tells me you've finished up at that fancy culinary arts school of yours? We'll have to swap recipes; I know how much Eric loves your peanut butter cookies."

Eric's mother had always been supportive of my decision to go into a culinary career; even going so far as trying to convince my parents of that fact when they found out that I'd been lying to them about attending USC Marshall. She—and Eric—were the ones who'd convinced me that my baking was good enough to go on to become a pastry chef.

I hadn't realized quite how important she'd been to me over the past couple of years until that moment, and it was like something inside of me snapped. All the hurt I'd been holding in because of my parents' abandonment, and all the warm feelings I was feeling for Liane Cartman were suddenly spilling out. My arms were around her back, and I was burying my face in the crook of her neck with a quiet sniffle. And she accepted me without question, wrapping both her arms around me and stroking my hair in that way that only a mother can.

"Thank you." I mumbled into her blouse.

"Anything for my baby," She responded, holding me at arm's length and giving me a once-over. I felt my cheeks heating up under her scrutiny, and I knew that she was seeing the real me; the one that my own mother refused to acknowledge.

"Dude! I can't fucking ___believe _you!" I jumped at the sudden noise of Ike, as he came barreling towards me. Liane smiled and stepped out of the way just as Ike came flying into my arms, sending us both to the floor.

"I-Ike!"

"I'll go make you boys some lemonade and cookies, okay?" Liane daintily stepped over our forms, winking at me before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Ike, what are you—"

"Oh, so you do remember me, then?" His tone was dripping with sarcasm. I suppose hanging out with Kyle and Eric for so long could do that to a guy, though. "I was sure you'd forgotten about your hapless underage friend. Considering that you only seem to come to me when you're in need of homework advice."

"Now how could I forget about you? Just look at how big you've gotten since I've seen you last!" It was true; Ike was definitely taller than me now, and he was beginning to look more like an adult with his dark hair trimmed nicely and acne finally clearing up. Puberty had been pretty rough on the poor kid, and being a certified genius hadn't exactly done Ike any favors in the popularity contest that was Park County High School. Of course, Eric was never one to let an opportunity pass him by, and right around our sophomore year he took Ike under his wing, much to Kyle's dismay.

He seemed to be doing better than when I left town, at least.

"So how have things since you've been back?" Ike asked. I knew what he was fishing for, but I was not in the mood to relay my family issues to anyone right now. And I still wasn't sure about whatever had gone down in that alternate dimension—if it had even happened at all. Ike stood, holding out a hand to help me up as well. "Eric says he's got you on Testaburger and the Tweaks?"

"Yeah—but what's this all about? Eric has told me next to nothin' about what's goin' on." I wondered if Eric had anything to do with the ring stuck on my hand, or the alternate dimension that Kenny seemed to know all too much about.

Ike glanced around the room, as if Eric had the place on surveillance or something equally ridiculous. "You know I can't discuss the details with you unless I have Eric's permission." He responded with his voice lowered.

"I know, I know." I huffed. Eric was always so secretive about his plans.

Speaking of Eric, only a second later he was shouting for us. "Get your asses down here!" I locked eyes with Ike—and he smiled at me in that strangely friendly Canadian manner of his before grabbing my bag off the floor and leading me down into Eric's lair.

Eric's office was really just his mom's basement, converted from our days of playing superheroes into a truly terrifying place to be. Granted, whenever the other boys in town would let me play with them, it usually involved me being locked in some sort of small space for an undetermined period of time. The cage they'd locked me in when we played superheroes was still tucked in the corner of the room, along with a bunch of boxes—I could only hope that Eric wasn't still using that cage to lock his victims in.

Eric's desk was on one side of the room, and Ike's on the other. I glanced back at him for some sort of cue—a hint as to what I'd done to irritate Eric—___something;_but Ike just shrugged, offering me an apologetic look.

"Butters. Have a seat." That was never a good sign when it came to Eric; but I did as he asked anyway, sitting in the chair in front of his desk. He was all dressed up today, wearing a full suit and tie, his hair slicked back like some kind of half-baked businessman. "We had a deal, did we not?"

"E-Eric, I don't understand—"

"Wendy!" He shouted, pounding a fist on the desk. "You were supposed to talk to her ___yesterday__._ You were given _explicit instructions, _Butters!"

"O-oh, jeez. Something came up yesterday! I'm sorry!"

"You mean Kenny McCormick?" I felt the air rushing out of my lungs. He knew? Eric leaned closer, narrowing his eyes at me. "Stay away from that asshole. He's been nothing but trouble for us, and you'd do better not to go running around with white trash like him."

"You heard about that?!" I sputtered. It must have been Stan and Kyle; Kenny was wrong, they had been looking for us!

"Of course I did. You don't think I would look after you, Butters? I'm insulted." Eric let out a sharp laugh. I felt Ike place a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I have to make sure my two best employees are taken care of, don't I?"

"W-well, I suppo—"

"Just get it done."

"R-right. Okay." I couldn't bring myself to look up into Eric's face. Not when he was making that angry expression at me.

"Damn it, Eric. He hasn't even been home a month and you're already scaring the living shit out of him?" Ike cut in. Eric paused at that, turning his narrowed eyes at Ike. To his credit, Ike frowned back just as fiercely.

"___Don't _call me Eric."

Ike broke out into a grin. "Alright."

This sort of thing probably happened more often than not between the two of them, considering how easily Ike brushed Eric's ferocity off.

"Let's get out of here, dude." Ike squeezed my shoulder before releasing it and stepping back. "___Eric _has better things to do than deal with us. Like figure out just how much he needs to come up with to pay off the Smaldones?" This last comment was directed to Eric, who simply scowled in response and shooed us out of his office.

I wanted to ask Ike just what the heck he was talking about, but now just wasn't the time. Maybe I could get some answers out of him when we made it back to my place.

Or maybe I wouldn't get any answers at all.

Ike was especially tight-lipped about Eric's plans, which was worrying me. Ike was never one to keep secrets from me, no matter what Eric may have told him. But we had spent the past hour and a half in my apartment, frosting pastries and chatting about anything and everything ___except _Eric's scheme.

The coffee shop was quiet that morning, and the jingle of the bell above the door seemed extra loud as I pushed the door open with one hip.

"Hey, Tweek!" I called into the seemingly empty shop, slipping behind the counter and setting my armfuls of pastries down. Tweek's head popped out from around the corner, looking entirely too grateful to see company.

"H-hey!" He exclaimed. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up!"

"Oh, jeez. Am I late? I told Ike to stop pesterin' me and let me get the rest of my pastries frosted..."

"No!" Tweek shouted. I jumped at the sound, and he glanced over apologetically. "No, you aren't—late, I mean. I just thought that maybe something happened to you, you know? There have been rumors going around town of mobsters hanging around South Park. South Park! Can you believe it?!"

"Now who have you been hearing that nonsense from? It wasn't Craig again, was it? You know how he likes to get you all sorts of riled up—"

"It wasn't Craig! Stan was in the other day—h-he says he heard it from one of the goth kids, who saw them on the other side of town. I hope they don't show up here!" Tweek, who was cleaning one of the machines as we were talking, flung coffee grounds in all directions. I imagined some big Italian mobsters sitting in our little place; eating tiny cakes and sipping coffee as they listened to Craig perform on poetry night.

I couldn't help it—the thought made me laugh. Tweek jumped at the noise, letting out a shriek.

"I'm sure we've got nothin' to worry about." I reassured him. "I can't imagine any mob boss comin' in here!"

"W-what's so funny about that?! I don't want to get my neck snapped in two, or end up at the bottom of Starks Pond in cement shoes! Ahh!" The couple of customers that were hanging around were watching Tweek incredulously, and I rushed to quiet him.

"Tweek, come try this, will you?" I held out a tiny cake, waving the pastry at him enticingly.

"Why? What did you do to it?" He asked hesitantly.

"Nothing, I promise! Tell me what you think of the new recipe?" He accepted the cake with a frown, staring down at it.

"Jesus! You're expecting too much from me! W-what makes you think I know anything about cooking?!"

"Baking." I corrected him with a smile. He rolled his eyes and nibbled on the pastry I'd handed him.

"It's actually good!" He smiled back at me. "I mean—you know."

"Well I certainly hope so! I did get myself into some serious debt learnin' how to bake 'em!" I began setting up my things in the case that Tweek's parents had set aside just for me, taking the extra boxes to the back room.

"D-dude." Tweek began when I reentered the storefront. "I'm sorry we can't pay you more, but you know how it is around here..." He sounded genuinely upset; that was one thing I'd always liked about Tweek. He'd never play games with me like Eric and Ike were so fond of doing. I felt bad for upsetting him over something as trivial as money.

"Hey, now! Don't you worry one bit about me! I'm just grateful your folks passed the job along to me when they did." Tweek watched me carefully, more carefully than I'd seen him do anything in a long time.

The bell above the door twinkled and drew both of our gazes away.

From the second Wendy stomped into Tweek Bros. I knew that Eric's plan was a lost cause. She was usually pretty good about keeping her calm when it came to Eric's shenanigans, but this time it looked like he'd gone too far.

"Butters," Wendy said sternly, in a tone that made me think that I was getting scolded by my mother. "Please tell me you haven't been in cahoots with Cartman again." She was standing at the counter now, hands on her hips and her cheeks flushed—from the chill outside or anger, I wasn't sure which. I looked down at the counter, unable to take the way her eyebrows were raised expectantly at me for any longer.

"Well—"

"Damn it! I knew that scheming bastard was going to suck you right back in the second you stepped into town!" She shouted, drawing the attention of an elderly couple sitting at one of the nearby booths. "Why would you do this to me, Butters? You know how much I hate that fat ass—he's got the entire city hall rigged, you know that?" I opened my mouth to respond, but she glared, as if daring me to talk over her. I quickly snapped my mouth shut again.

"Jesus Christ! What did I tell you?!" Tweek exclaimed, and Wendy seemed to snap out of her angry trance long enough to look over at him with a cordial smile.

"That... that ___bastard_," She leaned over the counter, lowering her voice, "Got the mayor fired, just so that he could put one of ___his men _in the position." I wanted to tell her that she sounded ridiculous—like Eric had his own private following or something. Who did she think he was, some kind of cult leader? "He's got the whole thing set up so that he can take over as mayor by age ___thirty_." As if to prove the point, she poked a finger at my chest definitively.

"Wendy," I grabbed the hand that she'd shoved in my personal space, and looked at her with as much sincerity as I could muster. "You know that's just not true. Why—you sound just as bad as he does, goin' on about all sorts of crazy things. Have you ever considered the idea that maybe you've got a... a thing for him, or somethin'?"

For a second she was quiet, and I was sure I'd hit the nail right on the head—but her mouth twisted into a smile, and a second later she was laughing, nearly doubling over on herself with the effort. I flushed, looking over at the customers in the store, but they only returned my glance with a little sincerity mixed with some amusement of their own.

"A—a ___thing _for ___Cartman_?" Wendy clutched at the counter top as she looked up at me. She looked much prettier with her cheeks so rosy and a cheerful gleam in her eyes than she had with that angry expression on her face a second ago. "You know I love you, hun, but that's just stupid. Eric Cartman is the worst sort of man—if one could even call him a ___man_. I can't even begin to list the reasons why I hate his guts; we'd be here for the next year and a half."

"But," I started. A distinct memory had wormed its way inside my head—one of Wendy and Eric together, cuddling on Eric's couch and enjoying each other's company.

"No."

"Wends, please."

"I hate him, Butters. Just drop it." That angry look was back on her face, and I wished I'd dropped it earlier, if only to keep the smile on her face. Wendy hardly ever smiled anymore.

"Can I get my usual, Tweek?" Wendy asked, turning her attention to Tweek, who was attempting to clean out one of the machines and doing a terrible job of eavesdropping in the process.

"O-of course, just a second." Tweek set to work on Wendy's drink, and she pulled out her wallet, placing a couple dollars on the counter in front of me.

"I'm sorry." I told her, knowing that it wouldn't be enough at the moment to get back into her good graces. I picked up her cash and put it in the register, dropping the change into her waiting hand. She crossed her arms with a sigh.

"I know. It's really not your fault. I'd just hoped that ___you _of all people would have been smart enough not to come back."

"H-here you go, Wendy." Tweek handed her the cup and she accepted it with a smile. "Have a good day!" He called after her as she turned on her heel, her long black hair waving like a banner behind her.

"You, too." My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I glanced down in time to miss the disapproving look that I was sure Wendy was directing my way.

_hey it's ken. We need to talk._

Just the sight of his name sent chills down my spine. I wasn't sure if it was me or the ring that was causing it, but I suddenly didn't feel like I could handle this on my own. Any of it. I leaned against the counter as I typed out a response. As if he knew exactly what I was going to reply with, Kenny answered my text before I'd even gotten a chance to send it.

_tonight at starks pond. 7 come alone._

As if the thought to bring anyone with me had even crossed my mind. I scoffed, sending him a confirmation text.

_Of course I'll come alone. I'm not stupid._

A second later my phone buzzes again.

_if you were smart you wouldn't show up at all._

My cheeks heated in anger and embarrassment, and I shoved my phone back in my pocket, determined to focus on work until this evening when I could finally get some answers.

Time seemed to slow down just to spite me. It felt like days before my quiet shift ended, and another month before six thirty rolled around, and I decided that it was alright if I left just a little bit early. The walk from my apartment was calming on my frazzled nerves, and I sucked in a couple of deep breaths when I approached Stark's Pond and the figure sitting on the bench along the bank.

"I knew you'd show up early." Kenny said, a mysterious grin lighting his features. He stood up, shoving both hands into the pockets of his thick jacket. I suddenly felt out of place in comparison.

"W-what do you want?" I wish I could've blamed my stutter on the cold, but I knew it was just my nervous habit kicking back up again.

"Right to the point, then." He said to himself, looking up with a drawn-out sigh. "Butters." His gaze locked onto mine, and for the second time that afternoon Kenny took my breath away. His eyes were dark, angry. Suddenly what Eric told me about keeping away from Kenny didn't seem like such a hard rule to follow, after all. "You need to forget about what happened yesterday. It was a fluke; nothing's going to happen to you after this, as long as you ___stay away__._"

"What?" I couldn't have heard him right. Eric's reasoning for staying away from Kenny made perfect sense—but Kenny's?

"Stay out of my business. If you want that fucking ring off your finger, if you want to keep on living your pathetic little life here in South Park—" He spat the last bit, as if just the thought of this city was disgusting to him. "You'll stay the fuck out of my way, you hear me?"

I was stunned into silence. Kenny must have taken my response as an affirmative, because he flipped his hood up and stormed past me, ending the conversation.

He paused momentarily, not looking back as he added, "I would hate to see you get killed." Kenny's calm attitude toward death sent a chill down my spine.

So that was it. No explanation. Not even a promise to explain it all to me someday.

I stood rooted to the spot long after the crunching of Kenny's footsteps through the snow disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4: Kenny

Mysteries and Lies

Chapter Four: Kenny

* * *

I know that what I spend my evenings doing is a little strange to most.

Okay, it's pretty fucked up; I'm not going to lie. What adult spends their nights running around town in a mask and cape—aside from the ones in a mental institution, I mean. Nobody knows—or maybe nobody cares—that Mysterion is still hanging around keeping the streets safe for the general public. If I'm going to live with this fucked up curse, might as well put it to good use, right? At least now I've got a few connections at the police station here, and the one in Denver, too. It definitely makes coordinating sting operations easier, though with the shitty police force we've got here coordination doesn't help_ that much._

Sometimes I think that I should've gone to school to be a police officer—but that would involve ___school_, and god knows I never want to go back there. At least this way I'm not constricted by any one set of rules—plus I can fulfill my weird ass need to take care of the people around me.

"Good evening, Mysterion."

"Haven't we gotten past the stage of formality, Henrietta?" I grinned at her begrudging expression as she let me into the house. Henrietta was still living with her mother, who I guess had gotten divorced sometime shortly after the events involving her brother Bradley and myself. Her mom worked late hours, making these late-night meetings much easier to plan since I'd still kept my identity a secret from her all this time. I don't think her mother would take to kindly to a guy Henrietta technically didn't know hanging out at her house late at night.

I strutted into her house with an easy familiarity, mostly because it annoyed her to no end when I did so, and she slammed the door shut behind me. I let myself into her bedroom, making myself comfortable at her desk while I waited for her to relay what she'd found to me.

"We ___might _have, if you'd take off your mask for me," She responded. Henrietta had certainly changed a lot since we were children; she was still Goth in every sense of the term, but she had toned down the harshness of her look considerably. Her long, black hair flowed freely down her back, shimmering in the candlelight, and her eyes, rimmed in black eyeliner, gazed seductively into mine as she leaned over the chair I'd settled into.

I leaned a little closer, feeling bolder this evening than most. I wondered what she would do if she knew that it was Kenny McCormick, resident poor boy and supposed man-whore that she was flirting with. Of course, I didn't plan on revealing myself to her any time soon, and told her just that, "You know I can't do that."

She sighed, reaching past me, and giving me a lovely view of her cleavage, as she snatched a folder off the desk behind me, "Of course not." She stepped back; sweeping the hair that had fallen into her face over her shoulder and sitting cross-legged on the bed across from me.

"So what have you got for me?" I asked, watching her closely as she flipped through the folder.

"Right" She began distractedly, "So about that ___ring _this friend of yours has," Her eyes met mine over the top of the papers she was holding, and I felt a surge of awareness run through me. "Is there any way I can take a look at it? I'd like to compare the engravings to a couple of ancient carvings I've come across."

I knew she would ask to see it eventually, and honestly, I was surprised she hadn't done so sooner. Henrietta was incredibly considerate of my privacy in all of this; more so than anyone would have expected her to be, judging from her appearance. She was just as hungry for the knowledge of what was going on as I was, so I knew it must have been hard for her to accept me without actually knowing the whole truth. I was incredibly grateful for her help and friendship throughout this.

But bringing ___him _into my drama was not something I was looking forward to doing, even if it meant getting the answers that I had been searching for. If there was some way, ___any_way that I could keep Butters out of this, I was going to do it. Bringing Henrietta into this was already putting more people at risk than I would have liked, and I wasn't going to do that to the kid. No way in Hell.

He looked so crushed when I'd told him so, though. Big blue eyes so filled with shock and hurt—I couldn't even stay long enough to give him a reasonable explanation.

It would be better this way, for both of us.

"Well, what if I told you we weren't exactly on speaking terms?" She wouldn't be happy with my response, but at least it would keep everyone safe.

Henrietta made a pinched face. "Damn it. How am I supposed to help you if you won't cooperate with me? You understand that there's nothing I can do without that ring, right?" She huffed, tossing the folder on the bed beside her and crossing her arms. She always managed to make me feel like a jerk for trying to protect the people in my life.

"I get it, babe. Just give me some time, and I'll get it for you." There had to be some way to work this out; get a picture, somehow. Her expression told me she wasn't going to budge on the issue and I knew I had no other choice.

She watched me for a moment, and I adjusted my hood to keep the shadows covering my face. After all the time that we'd been working with one another I was sure that one day I would show up and she would just ___know _that it was me under the mask_. _It hadn't happened yet, but she was bound to find out sooner or later.

"Good. Here—" She handed me the folder she had previously tossed to the side. "I've been collecting as much as I can find on the place you described to me yesterday, and I believe you were actually in Yemen—the Roba El Khaliyeh, to be exact. It's the only place that seems to accurately match the description you gave me."

"I thought as much. What's so special about this place though? Special enough to send me and—my friend," I'd almost slipped up and told her Butters' name, "to Yemen?" I opened the folder, looking through the maps and photos and information it contained. There were ancient ruins and cave drawings, some of which looked similar to the ones Butters and I had encountered, and others that were completely different.

"_Well_," Henrietta began excitedly, more excited than I'd ever seen her, actually, "It's the place that Abdul Alhazred, the writer of the Necronomicon once lived. And the actual deserts there are said to be inhabited by evil spirits and monsters of death." That caught my attention.

"Monsters of death?" I repeated, and Henrietta nodded and snatched the folder out of my hands. She shuffled through the papers quickly and passed back a photograph of an archaeological site. Decorative coffins were lining the walls of a narrow cavern, and one of the coffins' lids had been shoved off, exposing the rotting body of a scaly creature draped in gold. My stomach churned at the sight and I closed my eyes against the feeling. "I—I've seen this creature before. In the other dimension." I told her. "Except it was less...dead."

"Very eloquently put," She replied sarcastically. "I wonder what they could have wanted with ___you__._"

"Who knows?"

But I knew exactly what they wanted; they'd wanted to kill me. It was the ___why _that I was after. It had always been the why.

"Are you sure there's ___nothing _you're not telling me?" Henrietta asked after several seconds of silence.

"Yes, dammit, I'm sure." I responded tersely. "Why would I possibly keep something from you?"

"To protect this friend of yours who went into the Roba El Khaliyeh with you." She narrowed her eyes at me. "You might think you can hide from me behind that mask, but I see the real you underneath all this mess." She gestured at my getup, and I instantly felt like an idiot in her presence. "There is absolutely no reason that you should keep him out of this, Mysterion. He's become just as important in all of this as you or I."

I knew she was right. Henrietta was always right, even when she was being a bitch about things, which was often enough to get on my nerves. Butters _was_ a part of this.

But underneath the pleasant way my body reacted when he was close, something about him was distinctly unsettling about his sudden presence in South Park.

I woke up the next morning to the obnoxious blaring of my alarm clock going off at six-thirty in the fucking morning. Damn, I hated working the morning shift at the Photo Dojo.

Like anyone actually took ___pictures _anymore. Everything was digital: digital cameras, digital watches, digital concerts and girlfriends. I found the entire thing disgusting, personally. Not that anyone would ever ask ___me. _Sometimes I wondered what society would do without their precious electronics. Would everyone run around without a clue as to what they were doing, like decapitated chickens? People were way too fucking dependent on that shit; and for what—a couple of minutes of mindless entertainment playing some crappy game involving birds and pigs? Keeping score on some fantasy football league? Why not go outside and throw a fucking football around, Jesus Christ.

Not that I don't enjoy a good video game from time to time—I am human, after all. I just don't let that shit rule my life. I had better ways to spend my time, mainly pot and women.

Both of which had been conspicuously absent from my daily routine lately, I'd noticed.

Probably had something to do with the money I'd been trying to save for Karen to attend community college. No matter what anyone tries to tell you—women—even one night stands—will cost you a shit-ton of money. Like, no joke. I'd already cut back as much as I could on the weed, but it was the fucking women that were draining my cash flow. In an attempt to bring in a little more money I'd told my boss that I would pick up any extra hours at the Photo Dojo he'd give me.

Of course he'd jumped at the chance to take his wife and kids on the week-long vacation they'd been putting off, leaving me in charge of the entire fucking building. Job security was nice in this economy though, yeah? So I didn't argue when I found out I'd have to cover his early morning routine and open the shop up at seven in the morning for the entire week.

Somehow I managed to drag myself out of bed and make it to the shop that morning. Not that it mattered, since the place was practically dead until the afternoon hours, anyway. I hung around doing mindless busy work until Stan came waltzing into the store, bottle of wine in his hand and the smell of alcohol already on his breath.

"You can't do that here, dude." I warned him. The last thing I needed right now was for someone to come into the store and bust me for letting a drunken friend hang around.

"Kenny, come on," He set the bottle down on the counter in front of me, and I immediately snatched it away, taking a swig before putting it under the counter out of his reach. "Hey!" He reached for the bottle anyway, pouting at me when I shook my head at him. "I'm not drunk, asshole. I just got up like an hour ago."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" I wondered where Kyle was. If he was at home there was no way he'd have let Stan out of their house looking like he was now. Stan was telling the truth; he wasn't drunk, only a little buzzed. But the bags under his eyes and the wrinkled state of his clothing told me that he hadn't gotten much sleep last night.

"_Dude_." Stan leaned closer as if he was about to tell me something important, and I wrinkled my nose at the ___smell_. Drinking was something I'd pretty much sworn off of after high school; after taking so much crap from everyone in my life at my constant state of inebriation, I'd managed to drag myself out the hole I'd dug for myself and get my shit mostly together. "Where did you and Butters take off to after you left the apartment the other night? Kyle started being a dick as soon as you left."

Well that answered the mystery of whether or not Stan and Kyle remembered anything from that night. Not that I'd expected any differently, but still; it had been a constant thought in the back of my mind.

"Nowhere, we were just hanging out." Stan looked unconvinced, but didn't question it any further. It's not like he would have believed me if I told him the truth, anyway. He looked like he'd come here for a reason, so I prompted him, "What happened with Kyle?"

Stan laughed at my tone. "No need to get all fatherly on me, dude. He's just being a dick about Wendy again. You know how he gets."

"He only wants what's best for you, Stan. And ___this_," I gestured to the space around us, "is not going to get you anywhere."

"Uh, Kenny, I believe you're the one working in this crappy little shop, not me." He laughed, as if he had just come up with the funniest thing on the planet. Maybe he was a little more drunk than I'd originally judged. With Stan it was hard to tell sometimes.

"You know what I mean," I snapped. I wasn't in the best mood to put up with Stan's drama at the moment, especially since it was really his decision to come back here and all. It seemed like everyone was making all the wrong decisions. Didn't they see that there was a life outside of South Park?

Didn't they see that, more than anything, I just wanted ___out_?

The following night was a little warmer than usual, and I was glad for the fact as I crouched low in the shadows on top of the City Wok building. The breeze was still hanging in the air, though, and I frowned as it pulled at the ends of my cape. Goddammit, if I wasn't so vain I would have gotten rid of the damn cape already, but it made Mysterion look like a bad ass, so I put up with it.

The City Wok building was my favorite place to visit when the evening was slow. The roof had one of the best views of the entirety of South Park's streets and alleyways from its location in the heart of the town.

But damn it, if there was one thing that never failed to get on my nerves about these nights, it was the silence. It was so overwhelming—having nothing to listen to but your own thoughts. Why else do you think I would surround myself with so many idiot friends? I care about them, but Jesus Christ, sometimes they could be fucking retarded. They were good at keeping the silence at bay, at the very least.

I couldn't stop thinking about what Henrietta had told me, about the nameless city, about Butters and the ring, about me. Henrietta had gone on to say that she believed the ring was a conduit for the Old Ones to communicate with our world, and that for now I should be careful not to touch the ring directly. Which made sense, considering my ___unusual _ties to the cult of Cthulhu.

I was just beginning to think about turning in for the night when I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched. I froze, listening on the wind for any sort of movement nearby.

A bang went off in the distance; one that I can only describe as an almost metallic clang. And then the silence returned. With the stealth that I had perfected over more than ten years of public service as Mysterion, I stuck to the shadows of the building and crept to the opposite side. As I grew closer to where the noise had originated, whispering from below drifted to my ears.

"You'll get the rest when the job is finished." A gravelly voice snarled. I could only make out the figures of two men in the dim light that penetrated the alley below. The taller of the two, the one who'd just spoken, tossed over a small bag, keeping his gun trained on the other man steadily.

"You just tell your boss that I want ___him _to deliver the money personally next time. I don't want any more of this middle man shit, you hear me?" The first man let out a gruff acknowledgment and the second continued, "Two weeks. Tell him two weeks from today."

Two weeks. I had two weeks to figure out just what the hell was happening behind the scenes in South Park and take down whatever shady businesses were fucking with my town. It was shit like this that would never get taken care of if it weren't for Mysterion, mainly because the citizens' first response to any sort of crisis was to take shelter in the community center.

"Who's there?" One of the men shouted, spinning on his heel and pointing his weapon at a third figure. The man who'd received his payment grabbed the bag and took off in the opposite direction, leaving just the man with the gun and the slight figure standing on the sidewalk.

"Damn it, Butters!" I cursed under my breath when I realized just who it was. Of course he wouldn't listen to a word I'd say. I hadn't told him explicitly to stay out of trouble, but I'd told him to stay away from me, and that should have been enough.

I was sure I'd had the element of surprise from my position hidden in the shadows—but before I'd had a chance to even ___think _about moving, Butters eyes snapped to mine. He stood frozen at the sight of a gun pointed at him, and I leapt into action as the man took a step toward him.

The gun was fired before I'd even made it down to the alley—and luckily enough, Butters had the sense to shove the man while his back was turned. I felt the bullet whiz past my ear as I landed ungracefully on the wet pavement.

"Kenny!" Butters shouted, running toward me as I stood up carefully. No broken bones, luckily.

"You little piece of shit," The man who Butters had shoved down grabbed him by the ankle and flung him to the ground. The sight made me see red.

"Get your fucking hands off of him." I grabbed the man, and before I could even tell what was happening I was beating the shit out of him. It wasn't until Butters was grabbing at my arm, pulling me back with all of his strength that I realized something was wrong.

"Kenny! Ken, it's okay," Butters was nearly dragging me backwards, pulling my bloodied gloves off as he sat me down against a nearby dumpster. "You really beat that guy bad," His hands were shaking, whether from the adrenaline or the cold I wasn't sure. There was a buzzing in the back of my head making it nearly impossible to focus on any one thing. The gleam of the band of silver around Butters' finger caught my eye and I resisted the urge to grab his hand as he reached up to push back my hood. "He's out cold."

Butters glanced back at the man lying unmoving in the alleyway with a worried frown. I wanted to grab him and kiss the frown from his face—and Jesus Christ, what was wrong with me? I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath, willing the haziness and confusing thoughts from my mind for just one second of clarity.

"I-I swear I wasn't lookin' for you, Mysterion." When I opened my eyes Butters was wringing his hands nervously in front of me, looking up at me through lowered lashes. "Please, don't be upset."

So back to Mysterion, were we? I frowned hazily at him. "Butters." He made a noise of acknowledgment at his name. "I'm not going to hurt you, damn it. I've been trying to keep you ___safe_."

"But—why? From the looks of things, you're the one who needs safe keepin'." I let out a strangled laugh at the situation, and Butters smiled back. "I just—I can't stay away from you, Kenny. Something about this ring—" He looked down at his hand, where the ring was emitting a dull pulse between the two of us. "It won't let me get away."

"I think I know the feeling." I stood up, pushing off the wall and holding out a hand to help Butters up from his crouched position. He hesitated momentarily before taking one of my bloodied hands and hauling himself up. He immediately dropped my hand as if it were on fire. "Let's get out of here," I winced at the sharp pain that shot up my side as I took my first step. It looked like Butters' attacker had gotten at least one good hit in.

I took Butters away before anyone happened to walk in on the scene in the alley. I might have had a bit of leeway with the police here, but I'm pretty sure they wouldn't believe jack shit about Butters' side of the story. We made our way to the other side of town, to Stark's Pond, and sat down side by side on the small bench along the pond's edge.

Around us the world was silent, the people with actual functioning jobs and friends and ___lives _asleep, like we should have been. The water lapped quietly against the bank, reminding me of the Roba El Khaliyeh and of what Henrietta wanted from Butters and his ring.

I sighed heavily, slipping the cowl from my face completely and wiping the grime with the back of my hand. I must have looked like shit, and somehow Butters was still looking at me with that adoring expression on his face.

"Your costume looks nice," He remarked with a bit of sass clipping his words. I spun to face him, shaking my head at the cheeky grin on his face. Butters shouldn't have been allowed to make such honest and open—and adorable—expressions. It made keeping him at bay next to impossible.

"Knock it off," I responded, flashing him a small smile so he knew I wasn't upset with him. "The least you could have done if you were going to show up like this is come in costume. I'd at least like to keep up appearances, ___Chaos_."

Butters instantly sobered. "I stopped playing pretend a long time ago, Ken."

I felt the ring's energy pulse between us once more, trying to draw me back to him. "Well that's the problem then, isn't it?" He looked confused, so I continued. "Don't you ever just want to get out of this shitty place? We've all been doing the exact same things since we were kids, and it doesn't matter what we say any more—the people here all think they ___know _us. Like they know what we need. As Mysterion... they can't judge me. Think about it, Butters; you know I'm right."

"Kenny..."

"I want you." I cleared my throat, "I mean—I want Professor Chaos to come with me tomorrow. I can get you the answers you want. ___And _keep you safe."

Butters hardly looked convinced at that. "I don't need protecting any more than you do."

"Okay, fine. Whatever." I huffed. "Just... please come with me?" He thought a little longer than necessary about the issue, and I was fairly certain he did so just to annoy the shit out of me.

"Alright. But you've really gotta learn to stop pushin' people away." Right. Like that was going to happen.

"I just want to keep you ___safe_, damn it." I ground out.

"I'm not yours to keep safe, Kenny."

He frowned once more, and I realized that he was right. This ring was the ___only _reason that we were talking to one another, and I was glad to know that Butters' own judgment wasn't being clouded by that fact like mine was.

"Sorry, you're right. And I should have explained the situation to you sooner."

Life is full of choices. That seems to be the only damn thing we're doing lately; making choices. The way I saw it, I had two choices; keep my peace and solitude—and sanity—or allow Butters into my confidence.

It looked like sanity would be taking a back seat this time around.


	5. Chapter 5: Butters

Mysteries and Lies

Chapter Five: Butters

* * *

"I can't die."

Kenny was raising his eyebrows expectantly at me, as if he had just spoken seriously and was waiting for some sort of reaction. I didn't want to upset him by saying the wrong thing—but honestly, how was I supposed to respond to that? He had just been talking about doing things differently than we had been our entire lives, and now here he was spouting the same line he'd been trying to convince us of since fourth grade.

Although I hadn't heard him mention it for years now, and memories of his past declarations flooded into the forefront of my mind. For a couple of years he had adamantly tried to convince everyone at school of the fact that he couldn't die, but he quit bringing it up suddenly around seventh or eighth grade. We'd all begun to worry about his sanity there around middle school, when Kenny started getting into all sorts of bad drugs and drinking habits.

"Butters?" Kenny asked impatiently. He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, and I resisted the urge to tell him to knock it off; that he was getting blood everywhere in the process. "Should I keep going? Are you listening to a fucking word I'm telling you, at least?"

I nodded, answering both of his questions with an affirmative and began wringing Mysterion's gloves in my hands as Kenny begun his story.

"I don't care whether you believe me or not, but I'm telling the fucking truth, okay? I just figured that after... everything that's gone down," he paused, furrowing his brows as he looked down. "I thought you might remember."

"I'm sorry," I felt compelled to tell him; I wasn't sure if I was supposed to see the emotions flitting across his face, but I could. Kenny had never been very good about hiding his emotions; probably because of the hood he constantly had up around his face had always concealed them for him.

"Don't." He snapped, swatting my hand away when I'd subconsciously begun reaching for him. "That ring is a conductor. It's harnessing the Old One's powers and letting them fuck with our world—because of some ___shit _my parents got into before I was born. Why they would choose you of all people doesn't make any sense, though." He said this last bit to himself. "For the time being, just keep that thing away from me, alright?"

"Well, sure, Ken. But what the heck are you even talking about? Are the Old Ones... those creatures we saw in the other dimension?"

Kenny sighed loudly and stood up. "You know what? I think Henrietta can explain this a lot better than I can. Come by my house tomorrow afternoon and I'll take you to her." Kenny hadn't mentioned working with Henrietta before.

I was a little hesitant to agree, mainly because Henrietta scared me. But Kenny's expression was telling me that I had little choice over the matter anyway, so I nodded. If Kenny was hanging around with her, she must have changed a lot over the years since I'd seen her.

It wasn't until Kenny was walking me home for the night that I realized that, oh yeah, _Kenny_ still set me on edge, and ___we _were supposed to be friends.

I was not looking forward to tomorrow.

All I could coherently ponder as I unlocked the door to my small flat was climbing into my nice, soft bed and crashing. I glanced back at Kenny as I opened the door; he was looking around the building critically. Just his presence in the hallway made it all look smaller than it actually was; like it didn't stand a chance of holding Mysterion's presence alone inside its flimsy walls.

"Do you want some hot cocoa?" I asked. Kenny snapped his gaze back to me, taking a step closer.

"No, I should be getting back home. I don't want Karen to realize I'm out. She'll start making assumptions again." I instinctively took a step back when Kenny continued his pursuit—if I can even ___call _it a pursuit. "Butters," He snapped, stopping me in my tracks with the tone of his voice alone. "Jesus Christ, you're as bad as Tweek sometimes," He smiled fondly, reaching for my side. And oh Jesus, all at once his hands were on my sides, sliding lower and he leaned closer, the scent of him filling my senses.

"K-Kenny—"

"Oh, here we go—" He leaned forward abruptly, Mysterion's gloves that I'd had in my back pocket now securely in his grasp. "I'll see you tomorrow, Butters." He gave me a grin, like he knew exactly what he'd just done. And I was sure he did, that asshole.

"Bye," I responded, and promptly slammed the door in his face. That would show him, toying with my already screwed up emotions.

My eyes opened the next morning not to the dull, sterile-white ceiling of my apartment, but to the high-ceiling of a building carved out of stone. This could _not _be happening. I hadn't realized quite how reassuring Kenny's presence had been the last time we'd gone into that alternate dimension, and now that I was in this alone I could feel a panic attack coming on.

I took a deep breath, and willed my shaky legs to work so that I could try and piece together the latest place I'd fallen into. Kenny said that it was him that was his fault that the ring was doing this to us, but I had to disagree at this point.

This place was just as silent as the nameless city had been, and the air was sticky and humid, even inside the temple. The room I was in was blank; all four walls along with the ceiling and floor of this sprawling temple pieced together with limestone. I stood up and tentatively approached the only thing worth noting in the room, a stone square carved out in the center of the floor.

It looked like some sort of trap door, though as hard as I tried, I couldn't manage to get it open. After struggling a few minutes with it the reflective glimmer off something in the darkened corner of the room caught my eye. What else did I have to do at this point but check it out? I was too afraid to go wandering outside of the temple alone—what if more of those creatures were lurking outside?

The object on the floor was a cylinder shaped container; so small, in fact, that I wondered if anything was even held inside the four inch container. I turned it over in my hands, watching the way the iridescent metal reflected in the light. I couldn't recall ever seeing a metal quite like this one—just as I didn't recall seeing that window along the wall on the opposite side of the room, either.

The light pouring in was blindingly bright, and I wondered if I was actually in one of the grand buildings of the nameless city. But no—I quickly dismissed the thought. Those temples had been intricately decorated, built lovingly by the monsters that inhabited them. This place was entirely different. The stonework was primitive at best, with no defining features aside from that square in the center of the room. No paintings on the walls, no sound of water lapping at the banks like the first city, ___nothing_. It was like someone—or something—had built this place only to avoid it entirely.

I blinked against the intensity of the light coming through the window and as my eyes slowly adjusted the world outside came into focus. I was so high up—just looking out the window was enough to give me vertigo, and I grabbed the edge of the open window to keep my balance. Huge basalt cliffs surrounded the Cyclopean stone building, and far, far past the jagged basalt I could make out the vague outline of a primitive village.

A powerful sense of dread overtook me all at once, and I clutched at the window in an attempt to steady myself. The metal cylinder clattered noisily to the ground, drawing a startled yelp from my throat as I jumped from the noise.

The little metal cap on the top of the cylinder had come off with the fall and rolled away, closer to the trap door than I dared to travel presently. Instead I picked up the capless container and tipped it on its side to try and get a peek inside. No way was I just going to dump the contents out without checking what they were first—God only knows what the cylinder could be holding.

It was a scrap of paper. It didn't appear threatening in any way, so I carefully slid the paper out onto my open palm. The scroll in my hand wasn't made out of paper at all; instead it was a membrane-like material that I had a hard time fighting the urge to drop. The bluish-white scroll was strangely smooth as I unraveled it carefully, afraid to damage the thin material. Bold strokes of an ancient language made themselves clear as the scroll unrolled, penned in a grayish ink in a narrow line down the entirety of the scroll. The language was unlike anything I'd ever seen before—except on this ring on my finger.

I held up the hand with the small metal band attached. Now, I was certainly no expert, but the hieroglyphs looked similar enough to me.

With that discovery, something in the room began to change. That same unbearably loud screeching from last time filled the room, bouncing off every available surface and making me drop the cylinder again to cover my ears in pain.

Of course this did me no good, considering the source of the screeching was the ring on my finger, so with a muttered curse I began clawing at the ring in an attempt to get it off. I could hear Kenny in my head, telling me to stop it and what did I think I was going to accomplish and that I needed to ___calm down, _but it was no use. I wasn't sure if it was me or the rumbling that had overtaken the temple that was causing the ring to cry out, but I wanted it to ___stop_.

And it did.

Before I'd even had the time to ponder the reasons for that, a feral moan ghosted it's way through the stone building, reverberating off the walls in a seemingly endless loop. It was coming from the trap door in the middle of the room.

Oh, Jesus Christ—this ring had woken up whatever was under there and now I was going to die. I was going to die without ever finding out why—without getting to put all of my wasted money to use at Tweek's coffee shop, and without ever getting to reconcile with my parents.

The trap door lifted easily, letting the blackness seep into the room. I clenched my eyes shut as I fell to the floor from the power of the tremors; though it could have been the ring's power, at this point I wasn't entirely sure.

The sounds pouring from the trapdoor alone were enough to send me skittering backwards, flinching when my back hit the rough edge of the poorly carved stone behind me. It was a terrible oozing noise—a sucking and pulling that brought silly putty to mind. But there was nothing ___silly _about the creature that was pulling its self out of the cavern below.

Against my better judgment I cracked an eye. Maybe—Maybe it wasn't as bad as the noises were implying? Maybe the ring was taking over my thoughts and this was all in my head.

_Or maybe not._

I recoiled at the sight of the—the ___thing _in front of me. It was hard to consider that the amorphous thing in front of me was even ___alive. _It was a huge mass of oozing body parts and tentacles. The creature snapped its multiple sets of jaws at me, and lunged in my direction.

Oh boy, was I lucky that the creature was as slow moving as it was, and that the temple we were in was unnecessarily huge. I was far enough away that even with the creature trying to lunge for me I had enough time and space to make it to the opening of the room.

I had just made it to the bright sunshine of the outside world when out of nowhere _Kenny_ appeared before me. If that weren't strange enough, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me back into the room, back into the monster's sight.

"Where you headed, Butters?" He asked casually, as if it weren't uncommon for us to be meeting up in alternate dimensions and hanging out with creatures that were supposed to be long since extinct in our own time. I guess at this point it ___wasn't _so uncommon and that thought scared me more than the creature that was slowly approaching us. "Didn't you hear? The people of K'naa have chosen you to be the sacrifice to their god."

"W-Wait—Kenny, you can't do this!"

"Do what? Kill you?" The smile on his face did nothing to hide the darkness in his eyes. "You've done it to me dozens of times."

"I don't understand—"

"It's too late. The second you put that ring on your finger, it was too late."

"No!"

I tried to stop him from shoving me into the creature's grasp—but he was right—it was too late; I was already being sucked out of the scene, my soul stolen from my body as my very being was ripped to shreds and reassembled seamlessly.

I was back in my apartment this time; and I clutched at my bedsheets with sweaty palms as I took several deep breaths. That didn't just happen. Kenny hadn't just tried to sacrifice me to that monster of a god, had he?

My phone was sitting on my nightstand next to my bed and I grabbed it with a shaky hand, searching with baited breath until I reached Kenny's name. I hesitated before hitting the send button, only until I realized what a stupid idea it was that Kenny would try to kill me in the first place, and that even if he ___had_, he couldn't try to kill me through the phone as well.

"Hello?" Kenny's voice broke through the static on the other end, but I was too preoccupied to respond. There, on the nightstand next to my keys and my little reading lamp was the scroll, the iridescent metal glittering in the steady sunlight peeking through the curtains. "Butters? Hello?" He waited a couple more seconds for me to respond. "Are you okay? ...I'm coming over."

I choked out, "I-I'm fine. Really." and Kenny sighed knowingly. I could hear shuffling and water running from his house, and then a door open and shut.

"I don't think you are." He responded curtly. "Are you still at home? Just calm your shit for one second, okay?"

"My shit ___is_ calm!" I shouted into my phone angrily. I looked at the clock hanging on the opposite wall—had I really slept in until one in the afternoon? "Please don't come over, I was just—I didn't mean to call you—"

"Be there in a sec." Kenny hadn't listened to a word I said, and hung up. I was frantic, it would only take Kenny ten minutes tops to make his way over, and that wasn't long enough for me to get ___anywhere _that he couldn't find me easily. Not that I was going to run away from Kenny McCormick for the rest of my life, mind you.

The cylinder sat on my nightstand tauntingly as I stood up and shakily pulled open my dresser drawers to find actual clothes before Kenny showed up. I wondered if maybe he'd forget just how to get here, considering that it had been so dark last night when he walked me home. I could only hope.

I'd had enough time to start a pot of Tweek Bros. Coffee and catalog a mental list of all the items in my living room that I could use as a potential weapon if it came to that, when Kenny knocked on my door.

"Dude, what the fuck?" He asked as I opened the door the tiniest amount to peek up at him.

"See? I'm fine, Ken. You can run along now; you've done your good deed for the day and checked up on poor little Butters," I tried to shut the door, but Kenny's open palm pushed it open further before I could stop him.

"What's wrong? Did I... upset you last night? You know I was just fucking around, right?" I felt my face flush at the memory of last night.

"I don't care about ___that_." I spat. "I mean, I ___do_," I paused, unsure of how to continue this train of thought. Kenny grinned pushing the door open with his hip and wrapping an arm around my shoulders like he had done last night—in that other world. I instantly pulled away. "Where were you last night?"

"What are you talking about? Jesus, you really aren't okay, are you?"

"It doesn't matter whether or not I'm okay. I need to know, alright? Where did you go after you left my apartment?"

"I went home! Just like I told you I was going to do! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He watched me like I was about to go feral on him, and I supposed that I was. That scroll on my nightstand wasn't a figment of my imagination; what happened in that other dimension was real. I left Kenny sitting at my kitchen table while I fetched said scroll, and slammed it down on the table before him.

"This. I went—___somewhere _last night." I could feel my voice cracking, and Kenny looking up at me with worried eyes. Oh god. It couldn't have been Kenny trying to kill me. It just wasn't possible; nobody could look at someone they had just tried to kill with such a genuinely concerned expression. "You were there—" He cut me off; knew I was about to start babbling.

"No, I was at home all night. I would have remembered this," Kenny held up the cylinder, watching the reflecting light just as I had earlier.

"But I ___saw _you," I sat down in the chair beside him, and Kenny scooted his chair closer to mine without thinking. "You—you tried to ___kill _me!"

"What?" He sounded almost angry. Like just the fact that I'd suggested the idea was threatening his honor or something. "Butters. I would never do that."

And I believed him; I really did. "Like you would never throw a ninja star in my eye?" I couldn't help bringing it up; to this day I couldn't see out of my left eye because of that incident, and the follow-up of the guys not wanting to get in trouble and taking me to a ___vet _rather than a hospital.

"Damn it—look. I'm sorry about that. I've apologized to you before, and this is the last fucking time. You ___can't _keep holding that shit over me like this! We were kids."

"You were old enough to know better."

Kenny's phone broke the tense atmosphere as Keith Urban's ___Better Life _begun blasting from the tiny speakers. He looked sharply at me before answering the call. "What?" A female voice on the other end responded just as fiercely, and Kenny sighed. "I'm sorry, Karen. We'll be down in a sec." They said their farewells and Kenny slipped the phone back into his pocket and stood up. "C'mon, dude. We don't have time for this right now."

"You brought Karen along?" I stared up at him, wide-eyed, as he gently ushered me out of my chair and poured me a cup of coffee. "Why on earth would you bring Karen with you?"

"I couldn't just leave her at home to rot while we go see the new Terrance and Phillip movie, could I? How much sugar do you want?"

"I drink it black," I told him, accepting the cup and chuckling at the face he made at me. "Thank you," I said quietly, looking up at him over the rim of my favorite coffee mug. Kenny looked back, another of those half-smiles on his lips, as if he'd just been let in on the greatest secret ever.

"Okay, get your shit and let's get the fuck out of here!" I didn't reprimand his vulgar language, or the fact that his hand strayed just a little too low on my back as he ushered me out the front door a couple of minutes later.

"_Butters Stotch?_" The McCormick who was waiting beside a beat up Honda Civic looked nothing like the girl I remembered when I'd left. As Karen looked me over with wide eyes I couldn't help but blush and shift my weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. Kenny gave his sister a look, one I couldn't fully comprehend; but she seemed to understand well enough.

She sure was a pretty little thing, with big gray eyes so similar to her brother's. She really did look like Kenny, except where her brother was rough edged and seemed to have the uncanny ability to cut through my heart with the slightest glance, Karen was softer and her presence was much more inviting, if the slightest bit guarded nevertheless. Her long golden-brown hair was pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head, and a few pieces had come loose, framing her face gently. I didn't think she'd done it intentionally, but either way she looked particularly more beautiful and grown up since I'd seen her last.

"Holy shit—you look like... an adult!" She exclaimed. "Kenny didn't tell me we were picking ___you _up!"

"Stop cussing, damn it." Kenny told his sister fondly as we climbed into the car. Wrappers and garbage littered the back seat, and Kenny looked back at me with an apologetic glance as I scooted it all to one side of the seat. "Who else would we be picking up? Stan and Kyle are living the married life; and no way in hell is the fatass coming with us."

"Right; I always forget you guys don't actually like him." Karen laughed. I tuned out their quiet conversation as I watched the scenery blur by out the window.

The cylindrical container was in my pocket, the unforgettable weight resting against my thigh. I wondered if Kenny would want to talk to Henrietta about it; she couldn't really be left in the dark—but at the same time... I looked up at Kenny through the rear view mirror, and his eyes met mine through the glass, as if he'd sensed I was seeking him out.

I held his gaze—until a honk from the car behind us jolted him back to reality. He let out a short curse, and looked back to the road once more.

When we showed up at the theater Stan, Kyle, Wendy, and Ike were already waiting for us. I felt so out of place in such a huge group; as a child these situations never seemed to bode well for me and even now I found myself walking a couple of paces behind Kenny and Karen.

Ike spotted the three of us first—and he flagged us over, giving me a look in the process. It took me a second to realize just what that look meant, and then it hit me. Eric had told me explicitly that I was to stay away from Kenny; and here I was, hanging out with him in front of _Ike_.

"Leopold," He started, already preparing to launch into a rant as soon as we were close enough. Kyle knocked him on the head with a fist.

"Knock it off, Ike. Stop calling him that, it's weird." Ike glared at his brother, but he wasn't really upset; I had been on the receiving end of that look myself dozens of times. "It took you guys long enough, Jesus Christ."

"Sorry; had to get sleeping beauty here out of bed." Kenny jerked a thumb in my direction, and I looked away as everyone in the group glanced at me.

"I-uh. Stayed up too late last night." I felt the need to justify the fact to the group. I'd always felt the need to justify myself to them, and I was beginning to realize that I was getting sick of having to do so.

"Leopld," Ike started again, dragging me by the arm away from Kenny's side. "Buy our tickets, will you, Kyle?" I looked up at Kyle with a shrug and he sighed, shaking his head.

"Jesus, my brother is a spaz," I heard Kyle groan before Ike dragged me completely out of earshot.

"Dude, what the ___fuck _do you think you're doing." He let go of my arm and I rubbed at the red mark he'd left behind. "Eric is going to beat the shit out of Kenny if you don't leave him be, you know that, right?" I was pretty sure Ike wasn't as concerned for Kenny's sake as much as he was for my own, but he'd never outright admit it.

"I'm pretty sure that Kenny could take Eric any day," I responded curtly, crossing my arms as Ike sighed loudly. He was so much like his brother sometimes, it was scary. "Besides, what does it matter to Eric who I hang around with? He never cared when I was living in Los Angeles."

"It wasn't ___important _then, Leopold. Just listen to me, alright?" Ike tapped his foot on the cement sidewalk and glanced back at the group behind us before continuing, "Eric's got something big in the works going on here, and Mysterion's been caught screwing with his plans on more than one occasion. Judging from Kenny's demeanor, I'd say he isn't entirely aware of the situation he's in at the moment, but ___you _are. We can't have him messing things up so close to the election. Either stay away from him, or keep him out of our business. Or Eric will make sure he does both." Ike patted me on the shoulder. "I only want what's best for you, dude. You know that, right?"

I did know, but goddammit, I was sick of everyone in my life telling me exactly what to do and when to do it. Kenny was right when he'd said that sometimes we all needed to play pretend once in a while to get away from it all. I felt bad doing it to Ike, but I had no other choice. "I know, Ike. I appreciate what you're doin' for me, bringin' this to my attention before Eric has a chance to yell at me for it. You're a great friend."

Ike preened at the compliment as we returned to the group. Wendy and Stan were arguing, as usual—I'd hoped she would have come to realize by now that Stan was and would always be ___Stan_. He was never going to change, he was never going to quit drinking, or quit putting his friends—Kyle—over her. She looked over at me briefly, flashing a halfhearted smile in my direction before attempting to regain control over her unruly boyfriend.

"Here," Kyle snapped, handing Ike both of our tickets, who in turn passed mine to me.

"Thanks, Kyle. I'll pay you back for it, I swear. If ___someone _had taken the time to remind me ___yesterday _that we were going to the movies, or hadn't rushed me out of my apartment this morning—"

"Hey, don't blame me for this, Butters. You'd have been dead in the water without me." He stopped, and blinked, and I caught the double meaning in his words instantly.

"You're right." I looked away bashfully at the blindingly honest smile he flashed me, "I never said thank you."

"_Well_," Ike cut in, "As awesome as listening to the two of you confess your undying gay love for one another, I think the movie is starting soon. Let's get a move on, yeah?"

"I-Ike!" I was mortified at the thought. That little know-it-all; thinking that I was going to sit by and let him harass me like this because I'd agreed to do what Eric asked of me!

"Ike Broflovski?" Karen asked, peeking around her older brother. "I haven't seen you in ages! Ruby told me you'd moved to Washington to work for some big political campaign crew."

Ike gave her a once over, much to the utter disdain of Kenny, and smiled. "Yeah, I've been doing something along those lines."

The seven of us filed into the theater, Ike flirting with Karen like I'd never seen him do before; Wendy and Stan were bickering like an old married couple; and Kyle watching both couples with a worried expression as he glanced back at Kenny and I, who were bringing up the rear of the group.

Karen laughed as Ike leaned in close, telling her something too low for Kenny and me to hear, at least.

"Oh—Jesus Christ." Kenny growled under his breath. "Kyle, tell your brother to knock it the fuck off. I'm right here!"

Kyle shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what you want___me _to do about it, dude."

"Maybe I can help." All seven of us turned at the addition of Eric—who was already waiting by the ticket checker with a tub of popcorn in one hand and a drink in the other.

"Oh, hey, dude." Ike grinned as Eric gave him a curt nod.

"Butters, damn it!" Stan groaned at the same time. Jeez, everyone always acted like I was his keeper or something. I was honestly as surprised to see him here as ___I _was to be here in the first place.

"I swear I had no idea he was showin' up!" I felt obligated to explain when Kyle sent me a frown as well.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch; Ike invited me, dickwads." Eric explained curtly. Beside me, Kenny grimaced as Eric shoved his soda into my hands and wormed his way between Kenny and myself. At least Ike had the sense to look somewhat apologetic as all eyes turned to him.

"I can't believe you guys; trying to see Terrance and Phillip without me. I thought we were friends!" Eric ranted as we passed the ticket checker and continued into the actual theater.

Everyone had fallen silent at his arrival, as if Eric being around signified the end of the world or something. Or at least the end of the relatively peaceful time we'd been having beforehand. From the looks of it, the only one who was relatively happy at his arrival was Kenny; who I realized, was probably more pleased with the fact that Ike was leaving his baby sister alone.

"Right. Like any of us would willingly call ___you _a friend." Wendy retorted smartly. Eric spun to face her, cheeks reddening in anger.

"Shut up, ho! I seem to recall you having no trouble spending ___hours _at my house when your little Stanny was away at school." Wendy's cheeks were quickly turning a matching shade at the revelation, and Stan was turning on her with brows furrowed. This was quickly turning into something that none of the rest of us were looking to get involved in.

"Wendy? What the fuck is he talking about?" Stan finally asked. He looked so heartbroken; I couldn't look at his expression for more than a moment. Kyle put a hand on Stan's shoulder; they were always there to support one another.

"Stan, listen. It was a long time ago—"

"Oh, of course. I mean, it's not like we weren't dating for an entire year and a half while I was away at school or anything."

I tapped Ike on the shoulder, and he immediately knew what I wanted, shuffling quietly past the three of them and into a seat close to the middle of the theater. He stole Eric's drink out of my hand as I plopped down into the seat beside him, and slurped loudly.

"Damn, those three are more interesting than the movie's going to be." He stated. Ike frowned slightly as Kenny took the seat next to me. The movement was so slight, I probably wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been watching him beforehand.

"You aren't interested in the movie?" Karen asked, leaning over Kenny, to get a better look at Ike as she spoke. "But—aren't you Canadian?"

"So?" Ike drawled. "Do you like the Kardashians just because they're American?" Karen's face fell. I know Ike wasn't trying to be a jerk, but the things he said tended to come out pretty mean at times.

"I like the Kardashians." I chimed in. Ike let out a bark of laughter.

"It doesn't matter what you think, Leopold. I thought women weren't your forte?" I frowned.

"I'd make an exception for Kim."

"Wait." Kenny leaned over the armrest separating us, invading my space and making me lean into Ike. "You're... gay?"

"Well—I wouldn't say ___gay__,_ exactly." Did everything Kenny said always have to get me flustered?

"No, not gay. He just gets a strong hankering for dick is all." Ike said bluntly, and Karen burst out laughing.

"It's really not a big deal," I was twisting my hands in my lap again, looking down at the sticky floor of the theater. I risked a glance at Kenny, who was oddly silent. He was still leaning into my space, his grey eyes dark and calculating and doing funny things to my insides again. "I've been out for almost five years now." A flicker of ___something _passed through his eyes, and I quickly looked away again, snatching Eric's drink back from Ike as an excuse.

The movie started up then, and before long Eric came up in the row behind us to sit, snapping angrily at Ike and me for drinking nearly half of his soda. Wendy, Stan, and Kyle never did show back up.

"Butters. You haven't been very truthful with us, have you?" Eric frowned over the tops of his reading glasses at me. After the movie Eric had dragged me away from Kenny and Karen, saying he wanted to discuss something. He had called me into his office, like a principal calling a student in for a scolding. Except, this was Eric, and his scoldings usually included something much worse than a stern talking to.

"Well gee, Eric, I have no idea what you're talkin' about." I'd told Ike I would leave Kenny alone; now that he was off my back, I had to do the same to Eric. I suppose my response wasn't exactly what Eric wanted to hear, because he let out a long sigh and took the glasses that were perched precariously on the edge of his nose and set them on the desk as he leaned closer to me.

"What I'm talking about is Mysterion."

I could feel my heart skip a beat as I let out a breathy, "Oh."

"Oh? So why don't you tell us all about what Mysterion and his new little sidekick I've been hearing so much about are plotting? Since you seem to be such good friends with him all of a sudden."

Oh no. Now, I know I hadn't exactly sworn to Kenny that I wouldn't tell Eric what was going on with this ring and the trips to the other dimensions and, well, with ___us_; but it seemed like the kind of thing he'd tell me not to mention to anyone. Kenny was keeping his identity a secret from Henrietta, after all, and I knew he trusted ___her _more than Eric. But I was such a bad liar, especially when it came to Eric.

I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. "I-I'm sleepin' with him. Mysterion—Kenny, I mean." Eric raised an eyebrow. "He's got a thing for costumes." I felt my face catch fire at the thought. Kenny did look pretty good in that costume of his; I'd admit it to myself, at least. Eric regarded me carefully, and then leveled a glance at Ike who was loitering nearby for his input.

"Yeah, right." Ike snorted. Damn that kid, he was just too smart for his own good sometimes. "___You _sleeping with McCormick? Oh, right. I forgot to mention that I'm fucking ___Eric_."

"Don't call me Eric, douchebag." Eric snapped. Ike spat a curse in response, effectively distracting Eric from Mysterion and our entire conversation. I briefly considered the possibility that Ike was covering for me on purpose—but what reason would he have for that? There was nothing for him to gain from doing something as nice as that for someone like me.

That was one reason in particular that Ike and Eric were such good friends—though Eric would spend forever and a day denying the fact, insisting that they were only business associates and nothing more. Ike was only interested in Eric's business ventures if there was something for him to gain from them, and Eric was more than willing to bring someone in on his projects if they were going to do their jobs and earn their keep—and keep their mouths shut.

I can still remember when the pair of us—Eric and I—had been in high school, and Ike had just started coming around. He was such a sweet kid. A little cynical, but I suppose I was too, what with the drama my parents were constantly causing around the house at that point. Despite what people might think about me and Ike, the way we think about things—about life—are pretty darn similar. We're both just trying to make the world a better place in our own respective ways.

I looked at Ike, who was still holding his own in a verbal fight against Eric. He noticed my attention and smiled back at me with that little knowing grin of his. Jeez, sometimes I wanted to give that kid a verbal lashing of my own.

"Butters." Eric turned to me and the smile on my lips died. "I don't know what it is that you and Mysterion think you're planning, but whatever it is it ends ___now_. We don't need anything disrupting this year's election. So I need you to distract him—I don't care ___how_. He seems interested in you; keep him off our trail."

"But Eric, you haven't even told me what this is about!" He wasn't usually this secretive with me, and it hurt to see that I'd essentially been replaced with Ike in my four year absence. Not that being Eric's right hand man was something particularly appealing in any sense, but it had been a part of my life for so long now that I wasn't sure what to do without him.

"Just do it, god dammit! I can always have my men go rougher on him next time, if that'll make things easier on you? Shoot on first sight? We've got enough to cover an ___accidental _death, right Ike?" Ike looked between the two of us before nodding slightly. "Right." He nodded decisively—to himself, or me, I wasn't sure.

Kenny said he couldn't die. But I wasn't willing to take that risk—it was up to me to protect him this time.


	6. Chapter 6: Kenny

Mysteries and Lies

Chapter Six: Kenny

* * *

Dressing Butters up as Professor Chaos was probably the single most adorable thing I'd seen in ages. I was still surprised he had most of his costume left, honestly. We'd had to work around what he did have—and what still fit. But, if I may say so, Professor Chaos was in top form as we made it to Henrietta's.

Butters had the tinfoil helmet on, which had taken much prodding on my part before he'd even put the damn thing on. I figured that even though it wasn't doing much to hide his identity, it had been at least five years since Henrietta had laid eyes on Butters anyway, and there was little chance she would remember him anyway. Though in my opinion, I didn't see how ___anyone _could forget a face like his.

His cape was too short but, I had an extra one he could use for the evening under the assumption that he would do nothing to permanently damage or stain it. I didn't think he would do something like that, but my costume was really the ___only _thing of mine that I could take pride in. Butters had pouted at the fact that it didn't quite match the rest of his outfit, but accepted it when I'd ruffled his hair and murmured into his ear that I'd thought it looked just fine. That kid was so goddamn ___easy__._

Butters had nixed the tinfoil gloves and boots, instead opting to go gloveless and stick with plain black boots. With a form fitting turquoise top and darker pants, the outfit was complete.

"Mysterion," When the door opened to Henrietta's house and that sultry voice greeted us, I could literally feel Chaos stiffen beside me. I couldn't say I blamed him; Henrietta honed in on him immediately after greeting me, and her demeanor had changed completely. I was reminded of when she and I had first started working together, and she was just as weary and snippy to me as she was to the preppy kids in class.

Butters shrunk behind me, using me as a barrier to Henrietta's wrath. She whipped her eyes back to me, narrowing them angrily as she crossed her arms. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, bringing this kid along?" I knew it was all an act on her part—she'd specifically requested I bring him along. But she wouldn't simply hand her trust over without testing Butters first, I guess. That was just like her to be fucking around with his emotions when we had more important things to talk about.

"_Henrietta_." I demanded. She huffed at my tone, and with the slightly bored expression I'd come to expect from the goth kids, invited us into her home. "Chaos is trustworthy—he's gotten us one step closer to discovering the truth." I looked back at Chaos, watching as he trailed behind me, looking particularly flustered at the attention.

"Right," he looked down at the wooden floor, refusing to meet my gaze. I wondered what was running through his mind at the moment. Hopefully he wasn't thinking about that damn dream of his from the other night. I'd made him recount exactly what happened as we were getting Chaos' things together, so that there would be no surprises when we explained the situation to Henrietta.

Henrietta led us through her plainly decorated living room and into the hallway, where she stopped in front of a rickety wooden door that opened with one of those old skeleton keys. She hesitated, glancing back at Chaos before sighing and pushing the door open with a neatly manicured hand.

I let Chaos enter before me; I wanted to hang back and gauge his reaction to what Henrietta was up to. We never came down here to talk; she was merely testing what Butters would do in retaliation to her worst. Couldn't say I didn't approve, simply for the experience of watching Butters' face. Watching was something I'd always been relatively good at, so when Butters showed up and I suddenly had someone in my life who I couldn'tread as easily as a book was an intriguing change for me.

I hung back as Henrietta directed Butters into a particularly rickety looking wooden chair, unable to stop the smile at just the sight of him. But Henrietta was there, looking at me with a strange expression on her face, and I quickly tried to mask my obvious affection for the kid.

"Let me see it," Henrietta pulled a chair up to sit directly in front of Chaos and held out her hand, palm up. Chaos glanced back at me as he did what Henrietta asked.

"Is it... do you know what it is?" Chaos asked. Henrietta was getting that crazed look in her eyes again, and I could almost hear the thoughts flying through her mind. All at once she let out a strangled noise, leaping out of the chair and clutching her singed fingers in pain. "Oh Jesus—I-I'm sorry!"

"No, no." Henrietta muttered, looking around as if she'd momentarily forgotten where we were. "I should have realized that the Old Ones would have a charm cast to protect their goddamn chosen one." She turned away from us, flinging her hair over her shoulder in that way I always seemed to take notice of, and started digging through the mound of boxes shoved in the corner of the room.

The phrase "chosen one" wasn't sitting well with me. Apparently Butters was feeling the same way, because his worried eyes drifted to mine again, this time holding my gaze. "Hey, we're going to get this figured out, okay?" I told him gently. Butters looked down, and the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. I wished I could take his hand without crazy shit going down because of it. I couldn't stand being this close to him; with the ring's strange power trying to suck me into him, but not being able to lay a hand on him. I tried taking my own feelings into account, not that I was sure at this point ___what _I felt, but there was something other than the tug of lust clouding my vision.

"Here it is." Henrietta was lugging a box out of the pile, setting it on the chair in front of Butters. The three of us peered inside, Chaos and I watching as Henrietta dug through the mass of papers inside and pulled out an old book. When I say old, I mean that the thing was hardly holding together at this point; the bindings had been nearly destroyed and the cover was stained and faded, the pages inside yellow with age.

"That ring is explained in detail in this book; take it with you. It should explain things better for you than I ever could." She handed Butters the book, then turned on me with her hands on her hips. "You, sir, need to leave him alone." Henrietta nodded her head in Butters' direction. "He's cursed."

The words hung in the air between the three of us, as if daring us to challenge them.

"No." I was surprised to hear Butters say. He stood up, a fiercely determined look on his face. In that second I caught a glance of the real Professor Chaos, of the real Butters, the one who was hidden away in fear of the world. "I don't care if I ___am _cursed; Mysterion—you can't leave me." It took me a second to realize that he was talking to ___me_; I was so wrapped up in the fire in his eyes.

"I won't." I promised. I couldn't even if I wanted to, even if Henrietta wanted me to.

Henrietta sighed loudly. "You idiots. Fuck, I can't even explain to you the situation you're going to find yourselves in if you don't get away from each other while you have a chance." She was fretting, angry and flustered for our sakes and growing more agitated by the second. "The ring is amplifying the effects of your curse—if you don't do something about it now, I can't guarantee that either of you will make it out of this alive." Henrietta knew of my curse and my inability to die, so if she was threatening me with death it had to be serious. "Have you ever found yourself holding a strange power over people before? Being able to manipulate their hearts or minds?" She leveled Butters a serious stare, and he thought about it.

"Well—not that I can really think of. I mean, there was that thing that happened with Mexico when we were kids." I wasn't sure what he was thinking about; probably his time spent in Mexico as the hero of their country, but the way his bottom lip jutted out like that when he was contemplating something was so fucking adorable. "And maybe that time when the government tried to destroy our imaginations?"

"That—wait—" Henrietta sputtered, "That was _you_? The Stotch kid?" I really wished people would stop reacting like that, as if it was so unusual for Butters to be involved in anything, ever.

"Right. Thank you, Henrietta. You've been a huge help tonight." I wanted to get us out of there as quickly as I could before she started to flip out on him, but Butters stopped me.

"Hold on a second, Kenny. What about the scroll?" He pulled the small cylindrical container out of his pocket and the multicolored metal instantly caught Henrietta's attention. She reached for it immediately, pausing mid-reach to stare at me.

"Kenny. Kenny... McCormick?" Damn it, I should've known that Butters wouldn't be able to keep up appearances. Henrietta didn't look angry so much as shocked and a little confused, and I planned to keep it that way.

"Does it matter who the fuck we are? What about the scroll?"

"I'm not a puppet, you fucking poser." She snapped, grabbing the scroll from Butters' hand. "I'm not going to do exactly what you want, when you want. You could at least say _please._" She did have a valid point.

"Alright, look, I'm sorry." I put my hood down and pulled off my mask. "There. Happy? Now we could really use your insight, Henri. I don't want this to change anything between us," I held up my mask. "It's still me you're talking to. Are you really going to let this one little thing ruin everything between us?"

She considered my words honestly, and I could see the decision in her dark brown eyes before she'd spoken. "No, you're right. You've been a good friend to me throughout the years, Mysterion. I'll tell you what I know. Just put your fucking mask back on; you look like an idiot."

According to Henrietta, the scroll was written up thousands of years ago by a tribe that is long since extinct. Its original purpose was to protect the people of the village from the wrath of the Old Ones who, until the point of the scroll's creation, would require the occasional sacrifice to appease the gods.

She told us that something had gone wrong when the scroll was created—that a group of priests feared the Old Ones would bring fury down upon their village if they found out about this supposed scroll. So they created a fake and swapped them out, hiding the original before it could ever be tested against the Old Ones. And somehow we had gotten our hands on the original.

After we'd left Henrietta's, I told Butters to keep it on him at all times. If that scroll did protect against the Old Ones, we should take full advantage of it.

The following couple of weeks passed without much interest; my life was a constant cycle of working and spending time with Butters and Karen. He was over almost constantly, as Karen had quickly grown attached at the hip with him.

It was certainly an odd sight to come home to the sight of the pair of them dancing around the living room, blasting Florence and the Machine's ___Dog Days are Over_; but one I was slowly growing accustomed to.

_"Leave all your love and your longing behind, you can't carry it with you if you want to survive!_" They sang together as I opened the door. They shrieked in unison at my appearance, then burst out laughing.

"How was work?" Karen asked as Butters turned down the noise.

"The same as always," I told her with a weary smile. Something about the way the pair of them were acting was setting me on edge. Karen was smiling broadly at me, as if she couldn't wait to tell me something. "...What did you do?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Karen laughed, looping her arm through mine and led me to the couch. "We've just been thinking..." I looked between the two of them; Karen's warm brown eyes alight with joy, and Butters' more subdued blue ones. I realized that I didn't want for Butters to have to remain subdued in my presence—I wanted him to be as cheerful with me as he was with Karen when I wasn't around. "You deserve more than ___this_, Kenny." Karen gestured to our living room, but I knew what she meant.

Our house was the same as it had been since we were kids, right down to the meth lab in the backyard. The only thing that had changed, really, was the fact that Kevin had bolted at the first chance he'd gotten. Although he was rarely around to begin with, so even that wasn't much of a change. No matter how hard we worked to get out of this hole, we only seemed to be digging in the opposite direction.

"I know it's not much, but...well," Butters floundered for the right words. He plopped down on the couch beside me, Karen moving to sit on my other side. "I'd like to make you and Karen a real home cooked meal tonight, nice and proper. And we could discuss gettin' Karen into community college." I must have heard that wrong. I was trying so hard to get money saved up for Karen to go to community college in Denver, but almost all of our income was being poured into this shit hole of a house. How would we ever manage both?

"I know you don't like Eric much at all, but he does make pretty smart business decisions. We've been workin' together for years now; I've got enough saved up that we could get Karen enrolled next term, if you wanted."

Butters was offering to help put Karen through college.

"You saved my life more than once, Ken. It's really the least I could do for you." I wouldn't say it was the least; Jesus, I would have been fine with a handjob in an alley somewhere. But he was offering to help pay for Karen's _education._ It would serve that fatass right that his hard earned money would go to my sister's schooling. After all the shit he'd given us growing up I figured it was only fitting.

If my sister hadn't been sitting in the same room, I might have just kissed him.

"Whaddya say, Kenny?" Karen leaned into me, "We aren't ever going to get outta this place if you're constantly having to save every extra penny to try to send me to school. I bet we could even get our own little place if we wanted to, this way."

She was right; with Butters we might just be able to get out. With Butters, we had a chance.

Fuck—I know we were an odd group—Butters cheerfully roaming the aisles of the grocery store, list in hand as he picked items off shelves, passing them to Karen to put in the cart. Every once in a while he would glance back at me, eyes lighting up in that way that made me want to strangle him and kiss him senseless all at once. I knew people were talking as we passed but I wasn't sure if they were talking because Butters was _home_, or if it was because he was hanging out with "those McCormick kids." Either way, it was seriously pissing me off.

All the sideways glances and thinly veiled whispers behind hands only increased when Butters fell in step beside me, bumping his shoulder against mine only a little awkwardly—he didn't want the ring acting up again.

The two of us had sat down together and read that book Henrietta had given Butters. It had certainly shed some light on the situation. As long as I didn't come in direct contact with the metal band, we were safe; firmly rooted in our own world.

He was close—close enough for my senses to become overrun with the sent of _Butters_. "Now what's got you in such a sour mood, Ken?" Karen glanced back at us, a knowing smile on her lips. I wanted to snap at her that she didn't know what was going on—but knowing Karen, she probably had more than an inkling at this point. I wouldn't put it past Butters to have told her, anyway.

"I just don't want to share you with the general public, is all." I grinned down at him. His cheeks turned a bight shade of pink at the compliment. Flirting had become a second nature to me at this point; I couldn't help it. I loved seeing the joy of others at receiving compliments—it was the single most satisfying pastime in my life.

"Jeez, what a flirt." He laughed. In front of us Karen pushed the cart into a checkout line and began putting items on the conveyor belt. Butters looked back at me once more as he went to help her.

I couldn't help but hang back and marvel at how well he fit in our life. Even Karen, who usually had such a hard time making friends, was completely and utterly enamored with him almost at first glance.

Butters insisted on paying for the groceries, much to my dismay. He was already doing so much for us that I felt like a fucking moocher. The least—the absolute fucking least—I could do was take the bags from his hands as we walked to the car and again when we walked up all the stairs in his apartment complex.

"Oh, you can go ahead and set those on the counter, there." Butters told me as he led the three of us into his room. Karen and I watched as he snagged an apron off of a peg on the wall of his small kitchen and immediately set to work.

I thought I was pretty decent in the kitchen, but damn. Butters moved about the tiny space with such ease I was reminded of a dancer working with a familiar partner. Karen and I tried to help him on multiple occasions, but he just gave us a little smile and told us to relax.

"I can make ya some hot chocolate, if you want," He looked over at us from the pot he was stirring on the stove. "I make the best hot chocolate—just ask Ike."

"Butters, seriously. Stop being so awesome? It's making me wish you weren't gay," Karen said, and the pair of them started laughing again, as if this was some long-standing joke between the two of them. I wasn't jealous—I hadn't been aiming to get on Butters' good side during the events prior. But god, I felt like a kid again, vying for my parent's attention against Karen.

"It's making me glad you are," I grinned broadly at Butters as he dropped the wooden spoon he'd been using to stir the noodles. He quickly grabbed it off the floor with a muttered curse—I didn't think Karen could hear it over the sound of her own laughter, but I definitely could. He turned back to me once he'd rinsed the spoon and set it on the counter, the look in his eyes entirely too heated to be innocent.

"Are you propositioning me, Kenny McCormick?" His tone was light, joking. But his body language suggested otherwise, and it sent a chill up my spine.

I shrugged. "Who knows?" Butters shook his head, turning back to the noodles cooking on the stove with a grin.

I drove Karen home for the night before returning to Butters' so that we could head out for the evening. I had been bringing Chaos along on my nightly patrol around our small town; mostly so that I could keep an eye on him. But damn, I hadn't realized how much I liked having someone else around—how lonely I really was—until someone was there.

Butters showed off his latest handiwork in the form of Chaos' new cape before we set out. "Isn't it just perfect? Karen and I spent hours trying to find the right shade of fabric." He was already in costume by the time I showed up, this time with a matching dark blue cape rather than my purple one. Mine was folded neatly and sitting on the table, ready for me to pick it up on the way home tonight.

"Looks good," I remarked as he did a little twirl to give me the full view of his outfit. Butters had a slender form as it was; but in the tight-fitting costume of Professor Chaos it worked better than imagined. He wasn't as fierce as a super villain aught to be, because in my mind, Chaos would always be the dark side of Butters, but he definitely had the presence to pull the outfit off. It was as if he was tapping into some unknown power when Professor Chaos was around. He held his head a fraction higher, and his eyes held just a hint more darkness than Butters alone.

"I'm so glad," He sighed happily, and fuck, I couldn't stand to be in such close proximity of him and _not_ touch him. "I picked the color so it'd match yours, see?" He ran his fingertips along my cape that was sitting on the table, glancing back at me when I took his ring-less hand and spun him around. His joyous laughter filled the room as I ushered him to the door.

"It's perfect, Chaos; now let's go, we have a meeting to crash." He dug in his heels at that.

"What meeting?" I could have sworn I'd mentioned it to him beforehand.

"The night those men were in the alley, they set up another drop-off."

"That man you practically beat to death?" Chaos frowned, side stepping out of my hand that had been resting on his back. "You want to go after them again?"

"Well, they were up to something before you showed up—it's not like I wanted to beat him up for the hell of it."

"I didn't say you did, Ken. It's just... I don't think it's such a good idea to get involved."

"What do you think I've been _doing_ the entire time you've been away at school? This is my _job_—this is my _life! _I'm not going to sit by and let my city get fucked by some wannabe gangsters who think they can come in here and do whatever they want. If I don't get involved, nobody will."

"I hear you; I just don't want you gettin' into trouble you can't get yourself out of. Karen's really worried about you."

"You talk about me?"

Butters flushed. "Well, on occasion. When we can fit you in between our favorite teen pop idols and our enthralling discussions about the latest nail polish that just hit shelves." I could always tell when Butters had been spending time with Ike. He always came around with that extra bit of sarcasm and cynicism coloring his words. "Mine's Backstreet Boys, if you were wonderin'. Karen prefers NSYNC."

"Damn it, Butters. Can't we have a serious conversation?"

"I don't know, can we?" He was pouting, about what, I wasn't entirely sure. "I'd have to say my favorite polish at the moment is _Rich in Spirit_. It's a pretty silvery-blue that's the exact shade of your eyes." I know he wasn't serious—I _think_ he wasn't serious—but just the fact that he'd had that name on the tip of his tongue was enough to make me forgive his sassy attitude.

"You pay attention to the color of my eyes?" I asked with a thoughtful smile on my face. Butters glanced over at me briefly.

"Of course." He responded bluntly, making my smile grow. "Do you know where this meeting's takin' place? I want to get this over with as soon as possible."

I echoed the sentiment; and under the cover of darkness that had overtaken the city for the evening, we made it back to the previously arranged meeting point. My adrenaline was pumping as Chaos and I waited above the alley—we were on the corner across the street from Stan and Kyle's apartment, actually.

"You think we could see into their apartment from here?" I asked quietly, nudging Butters with my elbow and directing his attention across the street. He rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Maybe?" With nothing better to do, the two of us leaned as far over the edge of the building as we could without risk of being seen and attempted to count the windows until we found Stan and Kyle's.

"I'm pretty sure it's that one," Butters pointed to a window with the curtains shut. "I remember seein' those curtains in the window."

"Of course you'd remember the curtains," I replied sarcastically. He punched me in the arm, but didn't say anything else. I thought he was right, though—up until the point two silhouettes appeared in the curtain. "That can't be right—Stan and Wendy broke up last week. And Kyle _doesn't_ date, trust me."

"Are you sure he just doesn't date _you_?" Butters asked with a raised eyebrow. "That's Kyle, all right." I squinted, tilting my head. Maybe the figure on the left did have a distinctly Kyle-esque form, but if that were the case, who the fuck would he be seeing? Kyle didn't waste time on meaningless relationships.

"Kyle isn't my type anyway, dude. That's just weird." I wrinkled my nose at the thought. Butters didn't look too convinced, and I couldn't blame him. Kyle and his mystery-date shifted and the curtain moved—giving Butters and I a clear view of _Stan _locked against him.

"Was that—"

"I think so—"

"But—"

The sound of shuffling feet stole both of our attention away. Two figures were coming from Butters' direction; he had a better view of them than I had at first.

"O-oh—" He let out a strange noise, somewhere between a moan and a yelp, and clasped his hands together. "I-It's just Eric and Ike."

After a moment they passed into my view. Eric was in top form tonight; hair slicked back and a suit fitted awkwardly on his fat body. Ike, in contrast, was tall and near-lanky, his black hair cut short and his dark eyes sharply observing their surroundings. He glanced up at the rooftop Chaos and I were crouched on, and I tugged Butters down quickly, clasping a hand over his mouth to cover the start of the cry he was about to let out.

"Shh. It's _Cartman_." I can't believe I hadn't realized it before. Like Butters had said, _Eric_ was pretty smart about his business decisions. I pulled my hand away from Butters' mouth with a grimace. "Did you just _lick_ me?" I whispered angrily, wiping my hand on my thigh.

"I couldn't _breathe_," He whispered back, his tone just as huffy. "You can't just go around suffocatin' people like that!"

I'm sure he didn't mean it that way, but my mind went straight to the gutter. "How about we try it a different way?" I asked, leaning on my palms as I moved closer to him. "I'm sure we could find something entirely more... pleasant to cover your mouth with." His brows furrowed.

"Is that some sort of euphemism for bdsm?" I tried to stifle a bark of laughter at that.

"Only if you want it to be, baby."

I showed him what I meant, covering his mouth with my own. Like I'd fantasized about frequently lately, Butters responded with just as much urgency I did. His kisses were less Butters than they were Professor Chaos; dark, passionate, and entirely more sensual than you would expect at first glance. It only took him a couple of moments and he was scooting closer, our lips separating only long enough for him to pull his helmet off and tug my hood down.

And then he was back in my arms, chest to chest as we kissed frantically. Fuck—I forgot how much I loved the feel of another person in my arms; and Butters seemed to fit so well. If we could only figure out some way to get that damn ring off his finger this would be_perfect_.

"The ring," Butters groaned into my mouth. I loved how fucking similar our train of thought was at times. He pulled away slightly, and I rested my forehead against his as we looked at one another. "This isn't goin' to work." He said breathlessly. His blonde hair was sticking up in every direction; I hadn't realized at the time that I'd done it. All and all, Butters was looking thoroughly disheveled—and I planned to keep him in such a state permanently.

"Hey; we'll figure it out, okay?" I flattened his hair with a hand, letting my palm travel down and rest along the curve of his cheek. "Let's just... let's just focus on Cartman right now. If we move quickly, I bet we can still catch his fat ass." I stood up, carefully peeking along the edge of the building for any sign of Cartman and Ike.

"Right." Butters answered back, still a little out of it. I flipped my hood back up and grabbed Chaos' helmet, holding out a hand to help him up. "Eric."

We found him only a couple blocks away bickering with Ike about something that was most likely pointless. They were obviously waiting for someone, the way they were hiding out in the shadows like they were. We hid around the corner of a dumpster, out of their sight if Ike happened to look over. Rather than a repeat of earlier, I gave Butters a sharp glance, telling him to keep quiet so that I could try and decipher their words.

"...Don't care what you do. It's that..."

The wind was picking up around us making Cartman's complaining unintelligible. Before Ike had a chance to respond, footsteps from behind us caught their attention—and ours. Fuck, I'd been so focused on the fat ass that I hadn't been keeping track of my surroundings. Some hero I was turning out to be.

"Kenny—" I tugged Butters against me, pulling both of us further into the shadows as the man stepped closer to our general vicinity. I knew from experience that men like him were trained to pick up on the slightest of movements; the tiniest hint of a sigh. It wasn't the first time I'd been cornered like this; but it was the first time I'd willingly put someone else in danger, and my stomach was churning in regret.

"So wonderful to see you, Mr. Cartman, Mr. Broflovski." Ike and Cartman greeted the man with handshakes, coming to meet him almost directly beside the dumpster Butters and I were hiding next to. Butters gripped the edge of my cape, and pressed even closer. "Did you bring it?"

"You know we did." Cartman spat. I hadn't heard him take a tone like that in the twenty something years I'd known him. "This is the last of it. Now tell Smaldone that I don't want to see him or any of you in South Park again." Ike tossed a small briefcase to the man, who caught it in his thick-fisted grip.

"You'll be hearing from him soon, I'm sure." His teeth gleamed in the half-light from the streetlamp on the corner as he turned to leave.

"Wait." Cartman hissed, and the man did as he was told; most likely on reflex more than anything. I sucked in a sharp breath, which probably wasn't the smartest idea—but Butters was burying his head in my shoulder, his breath fluttering against my collarbone distractedly.

The man turned on us immediately. "Who's there?" He shouted as he pulled a pistol out of his jacket. "Come out now, or I'll shoot," Cartman looked between the shadows where we were hiding and the man, as unsure as I'd ever seen him.

Butters' glared sharply at me, shaking his head against my shoulder as I shifted, trying to get out from underneath him. If it was going to keep Butters safe, I would take a bullet from this man.

"Now!" The man snarled, taking a step closer.

I shoved Butters off of me and didn't spare him another glance as I stood up and emerged from the shadows. I only hoped he had enough sense to _stay_ there.

"Oh—it's the poor boy." Cartman relaxed slightly.

"What the fuck is this?" The man asked, turning his gaze to Cartman while keeping his gun leveled on my chest.

I should have known. Butters would have followed me to hell and back if I asked him to, damn it, and he couldn't even stay put for two minutes if I wasn't at his side.

I barely registered the sound of the gunshot until it was too late.


	7. Chapter 7: Butters

Mysteries and Lies

Chapter Seven: Butters

* * *

If _this_ is what Kenny had to go through every single time he was killed then I didn't blame him for obsessing over finding a cure to his curse. The pain was too much—I couldn't focus on anything. Kenny and Eric were yelling, but the sound was jumbled together in my mind. The last thing I can remember was the sound of another gunshot.

I woke up to the intense heat—much stronger than anything I'd experienced in the alternate dimensions I'd been in before. For being as hot as it was, you'd assume that it would be just as bright—but that wasn't the case at all. When my eyes opened, it was to the murky blackness of Hell.

I couldn't be here. This was impossible—I might not have attended church like I _should_ have, but I'd been relatively good my entire life—as short as it might have been. This _had_ to be a joke. I tried to take a couple steady breaths, to calm myself down. Because really, what else was I supposed to do—I was in _Hell_.

Kenny really had been telling the truth about Hell—he'd tried to explain it to me once, on a quiet night when we were out patrolling the city. But it was a little hard to grasp the imagery from Kenny's nonchalant attitude about the entire situation. Now I knew what he meant; when Kenny told me about the basalt-filled caverns, he forgot to mention the huge geysers of flaming molten rock. When he mentioned the _spacious living arrangements_, he seemed to forget about the sky of fire above our heads.

I hadn't realized it until now, but the gaping wound where I had been shot in the chest was gone—the pain along with it. I quickly stripped my jacket off, feeling for some sort of indication that I'd been shot in the first place. Kenny hadn't mentioned _this_.

"You are an impossible human to track," A voice from behind me spoke. I turned, shying away from the sight of the man in front of me. Past experience had taught me _not_ to trust strangers who appeared out of nowhere when I was in a foreign place. This man was tall and well-built—not that I was looking, or anything. It was hard not to notice the muscles beneath his completely black, formfitting outfit. There was a darkness in his eyes that I'd never encountered before; as if this man was well and truly _evil_.

"Do not give me that look, Leopold Stotch. I am here to take you to Kenny McCormick. That asshole killed himself and is running rampant through Hell looking for _you_." He sneered, as if the thought of Kenny doing something so sweet was disgusting to him. "The son of Satan reduced to a mere delivery boy." He scoffed to himself. This man was the son of Satan? "Come with me." He held out a hand, glancing away as he did so. If he really couldn't stand the thought of Kenny or me, why bother at all?

"And why should I come with you?" I responded with a frown. "How do I know you aren't goin' to take me off to some—some _dungeon_ somewhere and have your way with me?!"

The bark of laughter sounded odd on his lips. "You are most certainly not _my_ type, Leopold. If you do not come with me soon though, I'm afraid that my father's demons will be around soon to collect you. And I do not think you want to know what awaits you in my father's chambers." I wondered now if his face was always like that, or if everything about the situation was truly disgusting to him.

I stood up, wincing at the dull ache that filled my chest. I guess the pain wasn't entirely gone.

"Come along." He grabbed me by the arm—and suddenly we were standing in front of Kenny. He blinked, momentarily stunned by our appearance, before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Fuck—thank you, Damien," Kenny said into my hair. "I didn't know what else to do—thank you," He was deliriously happy, and I wondered just how long he'd been searching for. My sense of time was completely destroyed under this sky of fire, and as it was I was having a hard time focusing on anything but the man in my arms.

"Kenny," I gripped the back of his jacket with both hands, sighing happily as he obliged me with a fierce kiss. He pulled back, and the emotions in his grey eyes were just as powerful as his kiss had been.

"I'm sorry; I should've been able to protect you. Damn it—I was trying so hard to protect you—" I silenced him with another kiss.

"This wasn't your fault, Ken. I was bein' stupid. You did as well as you could've, given the circumstances—" Kenny tugged me back to him, burying his face in my shoulder.

"You're never stupid, Butters. _Never_."

"I beg to disagree." The man Kenny called Damien chimed in. I'd forgotten he was there for a minute, and pulled back from Kenny with a bashful expression on my face. "I find both of you to be idiots, in fact."

"Shut the fuck up, dude." Kenny snapped at him. Was he even allowed to speak to Satan's son like that? "Don't mind him; Damien's a nice guy, he's just kind of a jerk."

"Like Eric?"

"Nah—I'd say Cartman is at least twenty times worse than the antichrist."

I was about to respond in a huff, ready to defend Eric's honor, when Kenny continued, "Cartman was just as worked up over you getting shot as I was. I don't know what happened after the guy shot _me_, but I'm sure Cartman and Ike took him down."

"I have the best friends a guy could ask for," I smiled up at him. "Eric, and Ike; and you."

"Ike isn't half bad, after all. If he'd quit flirting with my sister." His tone was only half-joking, and I would bet money that Ike was the only level-headed one out of the three men left in that alley after I was gone. "Shit—Karen. She's going to flip her shit when she hears the news."

"You realize that Leopold will not remain here for long, right? He's been marked by Cthulhu—it's not his destiny to be here now." Kenny and I both stiffened. This wasn't permanent; I would be able to go back to South Park with Kenny. "All of your dramatics were for nothing; as usual."

"I was not being _dramatic_. I was just—I care about this kid, okay?" Kenny's near-bashful tone brought a smile to my face, and I hid it in the folds of his jacket, burying my face in it and breathing deeply.

"That is probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard from you in all the years we've known one another. You were not meant to be."

"To be what? You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Butters, c'mon. I'll show you around Hell—my second home. I've always been Satan's favorite, anyway."

"Excuse me?" Damien growled. "I need to speak with you before you leave, Kenny. Alone."

"What? I'm not leaving Butters alone after all the trouble we just went through to track him down."

Damien let out a long sigh, "Fine. Have it your way—but the two of you better not throw a fit about what I have to say." At this point I figured that whatever he had to tell us would be nothing in comparison to what we'd been through already. "This destiny of Leopold's is not..." He faltered, and Kenny seemed to find this incredibly significant. He left my side, taking a step closer to Damien. "Cthulhu intends to sacrifice him when the time is right. That ring; the one that makes it possible for him to return to the living world, only does so because Cthulhu wishes it."

"A sacrifice." Kenny repeated. "What the fuck are you talking about? That's not possible. That's _not_ possible."

"There's more, I'm afraid." Damien glanced at me, as if expecting to hear an objection. I was stunned into silence though. "The law holds true in this case as well—only an immortal may kill another immortal, Kenny. You have always been at Cthulhu's whims; I fear you should not grow so attached to Leopold at this point."

That must have been Damien's way of telling us that Kenny _was_ going to kill me. I guess there was really no hope after all.

I sunk to my knees. Kenny was going to _kill_ _me_.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I won't do it, I won't." Kenny was on his knees next to me, wrapping me in his embrace. I didn't know what to believe.

"Once you fulfill your own destiny, Kenny, your own curse will be removed. You can live a normal life once Leopold is out of the living world for good. And I won't have to see your face here for another good sixty years, if we're lucky."

"Is that all you fucking care about? Not seeing me again? Fuck you," Kenny snapped. He pulled both of us to our feet, not sparing Damien a second glance as he steered me out of the cave and into the depths of Hell.

"Kenny," I stopped him once we were far enough away from Damien that he was starting to calm down. "If this is our destiny, there's nothin' we can do to change it; I mean, that's why they call it a destiny, after all. Not that I think this is our destiny or nothin'!" I was quick to add at the furious look he gave me. "I just—sometimes I think—well... maybe things would be a little better for everyone if I wasn't around."

"Don't you ever fucking say that." He grabbed me by the shoulders. "Things would _not_ be better if you weren't here. I would—I would go insane. Jesus Christ, I can't figure out why the fuck I never noticed you before, Butters." He looked as sincere as I'd ever seen him; the mask he usually hid behind was gone in that moment, my breath stolen along with it.

"I've been here the whole time, waitin' for someone-" He kissed me again, and I melted. I knew I wouldn't get sick of this—of Kenny's kisses. I could spend a dozen lifetimes just kissing him and _never_ get sick of this.

All at once we were being pulled apart though; not by any particular person, but by nature itself.

The feeling of returning to earth was almost like going between dimensions; if I could relate it to anything. Even that was a bit of a stretch—this was more of a rebirth; a feeling of beginning anew in the world than just teleportation to a different dimension.

The end destination was the same; of course. I opened my eyes to the plain white walls of my apartment. It all seemed _too quiet_. Too easy to just slip back into the living world without anyone being the wiser.

My phone on my nightstand was flashing, telling me that I had an unopened text message. The cylinder rolled from my nightstand on to the floor, and I grabbed it before opening the first message from Tweek.

_Where are you? it's already 2._

The message was dated yesterday afternoon, the day _after_ I'd died. I checked today's date; a couple of days had passed in Hell, but it seemed like no time at all. Tweek must have known I'd died by now. Or maybe it would be like Kenny had tried explaining before—nobody would realize where I'd gone, just that I hadn't been_ here._

I slid out of my bed, feeling oddly refreshed after my adventure in Hell. The feeling immediately vanished when I looked out the window and saw the chaotic scene going on outside.

The streets were so smoky that I couldn't see far past the other side of the street as it was, but half-destroyed buildings on fire were _never_ a good sign. It only took a couple seconds to slip into some shoes and grab my jacket off the hook as I rushed out of my apartment, just in time for the window in my bedroom to shatter and the smoke to start pouring in. I stuffed the cylinder and my phone into my pocket as I ran down the hallway and down the stairs.

It was just as eerily quiet on the streets as I had noticed in my apartment. Everyone must have been hiding out in the community center on the other side of town.

"Shit, I thought you were gone," Kenny came jogging up to me, catching his breath before pulling me into a hug. "That fucking fat ass has gone on a rampage since you were killed; we have to find him."

"_Eric_ did this?"

A low-pitched screeching from the opposite side of town drifted to us over the crackling of the flames. Kenny grabbed me by the arm and through the debris-littered streets we began heading toward it.

If Eric was anywhere, it would be at the center of all of this.

And he was. We found him with Henrietta, the two of them blubbering over one of Henrietta's old books, shouting at one another. Ike noticed us first, shocked into silence as if he was seeing a ghost. Or two ghosts, more than likely.

"What the_ fuck_ is going on?" Kenny demanded. Both of their gazes immediately snapped to us, the book between them clattering to the ground.

"Butters!" Eric exclaimed, moving just about as quick as I'd ever seen him to pull me against him. "It worked—It fucking _worked_!" He was crying into my hair, sobbing tender words I'd never thought I'd hear from him. He pulled away only just far enough to look into my face. "I thought I'd lost you forever—" He sniffled, trying unsuccessfully to stop the fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

Ike stood awkwardly off to the side as he watched the exchange. He was completely pale—like he wasn't sure quite what to do at our return. Eric put a stop to it immediately, holding out a pudgy hand and calling him closer. "Ike—get over here! It worked! The spell _worked_!"

"But Cthulhu—"

"_Cthulhu?_ What the fuck did you do with Cthulhu?" Kenny pulled Eric away from me, gripping him by the jacket's lapels.

"I told them that it was too risky, Mysterion. With the ring acting up the way it has been, and the scroll—"

"You didn't tell us shit about any scroll," Ike interrupted Henrietta.

"That's right!" Eric cried, trying unsuccessfully to slip out of Kenny's iron grasp. I reached into my pocket, pulling the strangely colored cylinder out and rolling it between my fingertips. It glittered in the reflection of the flames.

"It's not the scroll that's important." Kenny glared down at Eric before releasing him. Eric stumbled backwards, landing on the soggy cement below. "It's Cthulhu."

"We thought that Eric might be able to speak with Cthulhu directly if we summoned him; convince him to bring Leopold back from the dead. He did have a bit of control over the god when you guys were kids, right? That must be why he brought back Leopold." Ike explained. Kenny hardly looked convinced, and I couldn't say I blamed him. I seriously doubted Cthulhu would listen to a word Eric had to say after the way he'd been played the first time Eric manipulated him.

"Butters and I came back from the dead so that Cthulhu could _kill him_. It had nothing to do with any spell you three idiots cast." The silence that followed was to be expected—Even I had a hard time following Kenny on that one.

But I'd already made up my mind on what was going to happen next. I stepped up to Kenny, holding out the glittering scroll to him. He picked it up—probably more out of reflex than anything—and I leaned up to kiss him one last time.

"Butters?" He questioned when I pulled away, quiet enough so that only I could hear him over the dull roar of the flames.

"This is the way it was supposed to be, Kenny. I'm finally realisin' that we can't run away from fate, no matter how hard we try."

"Wait! You can't do this!" I heard him shout after me.

Cthulhu's screeching in the distance picked up again, calling out to me, and I turned to face it for the last time.


	8. Chapter 8: Kenny

Mysteries and Lies

Chapter Eight: Kenny

* * *

That asshole was just going to walk away from everything.

I was stunned into silence at the revelation—long enough so that Butters had gotten a head start, disappearing around the corner before any of us could stop him. Cartman snapped me out of it by shoving me roughly, sending the scroll clattering to ground as I caught myself with my hands. I winced at the sharp pain from the skin on my palms scraping on the wet cement.

"What the fuck was that?" Cartman loomed over me, the fire reflected in his dark eyes making him appear almost threatening. "You said it's not us summoning Cthulhu that brought you back from...from—"

"Hell?"

"I was going to say from the _dead_, you fucking fag."

"Cartman, I really don't have time for this—unless you _want_ to see Butters killed again. For good."

"I... don't think that's going to be a problem." Henrietta chimed in. She wasn't looking at either of us, instead she was attempting to fan the pages of her book that had been soaked with water. "Not with Cthulhu, at least. I've been researching the role of the Chosen One in more detail than that book I gave you. The power I told you that Butters possesses? It's not going to let Cthulhu _touch_ him."

"Thank _God_," The tense atmosphere between Cartman and I dropped immediately. I grabbed the scroll from where it lay beside me and shoved it into my pocket.

"Cthulhu is going to use your power, Mysterion, to reach into Butters' heart and destroy him." Her Gothic attitude was shining through as she described it.

"I would never—"

"I _k_now_; _I see the way you look at that fucking kid. I know you think your selfless attitude and your school-boy attitude towards love will save the day in the end. But it _won't work_. Cthulhu has been in control of your destiny since you were _born_."

Ike, who had been listening to the exchange intently until this point, stepped up to Cartman. "Go. You have to stop Cthulhu. I'll keep track of Kenny." I looked up at Cartman. He was stone-faced, staring back at Ike as if they were communicating telepathically.

Cartman had never been the hero—he wouldn't know how to begin. The Coon had been his only crappy attempt at anything heroic in his life, and even then he'd only been in it for the fame.

I stood up, shoving Cartman away from me. "You wouldn't know where to _begin_ protecting Butters. Let me go."

"Fuck you, Kenny! You think just because you suddenly walked into Butters' life and stole him away that you suddenly know him any better than _us_? Were you there when his parents flipped their shit when he came out? Were you there at two in the morning, climbing through his goddamn window to make sure that his dad didn't beat him too badly this time? To hold him as he fucking cried his heart out? Don't act like you know shit about him."

He was right.

I didn't know anything about Butters. I hadn't spared him a glance past middle school—hell, I hadn't even known he _was_ out until a few weeks ago. But that wasn't going to stop me from caring about him _now_.

"Cartman, please. At least take me with you. I know I haven't been there for him like you have, but... I really care about him."

He almost looked like he was going to agree, for the briefest of seconds, until Ike put a surprisingly strong hand on my shoulder and effectively rooted me in place. That was all the incentive Cartman needed to spin on his heel and take off after Butters with hardly a glance back at us.

"Henrietta." She looked beautiful under the backdrop of the flames, the light dancing off her dark hair and illuminating her pale skin. I'd almost forgotten she was here, she had been quiet throughout the previous exchange. "Why?" I knew she would understand; and she did, glancing away from me in obvious regret.

"I don't know how they found me. But he threatened to take all of our work—to destroy everything we've been working for all these years! I couldn't let it happen. At first he was just looking for information; but when he found a couple of the summoning books I'd forgotten about—summoning Cthulhu for help was the only way to get the bastard to _stop_."

She didn't have prior experience dealing with Cartman like the rest of us—it was only natural that she'd caved and done as he asked.

"You don't deserve someone like him," I heard Ike murmur."Butters has been through so much shit in his life that you can't even begin to comprehend the severity of it all. He was on the verge of fucking _suicide_ when I started hanging around him in high school. But wouldn't you know it, the resilient little bastard managed to pull himself back up and make something out of himself." Though Ike's words were almost soft when he spoke about Butters, his expression was anything but. "And now you're trying to ruin him all over again. I won't let you."

I couldn't even bring myself to respond. He was right; they were all right. Cartman would take care of Butters better than I ever could hope to. Any way I turned it, I would always get the same answer.

"Mysterion." Henrietta spoke again. "Cthulhu might be in control of your destiny, but... I don't think that we should live our lives _waiting_ for destiny to take hold. You need to take control of your destiny and—fuck it in the ass, before it gets it's claws in you." Her metaphor might have been a little... off, but the meaning was there nevertheless.

Ike's grip loosened slightly.

Ike's voice was quiet, and at first I didn't realize he'd spoken over the dull roar of the flames. "You might be an annoying prick, but I don't think I've seen Butters so happy in a long time." Henrietta nodded at him, and Ike dropped his hand completely.

"Are... are you sure?" Now that the two of them were letting me go I wasn't sure that they were making the right decision. What if it was already too late to stop? What if them letting me going was effectively setting Butters' death in stone?

"Hurry up and get the fuck out of here, before I change my mind." Ike snarled, giving me a push in the direction that Butters and Cartman had taken off in.

I heard Henrietta call out, "Good luck, Mysterion!" as I rounded the corner.

It wasn't hard to find Butters; the howling of Cthulhu was enough for me to track both of them down in no time. Butters stood before Cthulhu, ready to accept his fate and die for this shitty world. The god was unmoving as I approached. The only part of the Old One that never seemed to stop twitching was its tail, which swung around and destroyed a nearby building. I could see Butters flinch from three blocks away.

Even from this far away, I could feel the tug from the ring on Butters' finger trying to lure me closer. I took a few tentative steps closer, testing the effects of the power coursing through me.

Cthulhu roared when it finally took notice of my presence, and Butters spun around, following Cthulhu's gaze to me. He looked surprised that I would have followed him; his blue eyes bright with emotion and his mouth hanging open as if he'd had something to say but the words were caught in his throat.

"Get away from here, fucker!" Cartman shouted as he finally noticed me. "Damn it, Ike." I thought I heard him growl.

The ground beneath our feet rocked nearly to the point of an earthquake as Cthulhu let out a piercing screech and stepped closer. Regardless of his intentions, Butters couldn't help but take a step back at the approach of the Old One.

Cartman raced forward—going for Butters rather than trying to stop me. Which was probably the better choice, considering what happened next.

One moment I was myself—but the next Cthulhu was in my mind, and I was in _his. _For a split second I could see it all; Cthulhu's birth and rise to power, all of the struggles and successes the God had faced in the aeons he existed. I could see the lust for Butters' death in his head, and in that moment, it made _sense_.

That was the scariest part of it all to me—the feeling of _wanting_ to kill Butters; of understanding the power that he contained in that tiny little frame of his, and realizing all of the potential that Cthulhu would put to good use by killing the boy and keeping the power for himself.

And then I was alone in my own mind again, staggering backwards from Butters and Cartman and—when had I gotten so close to them? Cartman pulled a gun on me, one hand wrapped around Butters' waist as I fell to the ground at his feet again. There were dark red marks along Butters' neck, already beginning to form bruises where Cthulhu—_I_ had tried to choke him.

Butters was breathing heavily, clutching Cartman as he aimed the pistol at my chest. I knew it wouldn't stop Cthulhu if he killed _me_, though. The Old One was already trying to worm his way back into my mind, and I clutched at my head in agony as I tried to fight him off.

"Kenny!" I could hear Butters cry through the curtain of pain.

"He's already gone." Cartman snapped. I wanted to yell at him for being so rough with Butters—with _my_ Butters, as he'd become in my mind, somewhere along the way. Butters dropped to his knees beside me, grabbing me by the shoulders.

"Kenny;_ please_. This is what I was brought back to South Park for. You _have_ to kill me!" Even as he spoke the words, I could see the tears in his eyes. "Don't worry; I'll be okay with Damien. H-he didn't seem like such a bad guy—" I surged forward, wrapping my arms around him in a hug that knocked the wind out of him. "Eric will make sure that Karen gets to go to community college, l-like we talked about." He told me, frantically clutching at the back of my jacket.

Cthulhu was screaming now, trying to get into my mind more fervently than before.

"E-Eric, you'll make sure Karen's okay, right? When I'm gone—tell him you will!" Butters was as frantic as Cthulhu, his hands roaming over my back and arms, settling on the sides of my face. I was trying so hard to keep the Old One from invading my head that I couldn't enjoy the feeling of his hands on my skin. The _one_ time I could fucking touch him without worrying about that damn ring and one of us was about to die—one of us _had_ to die.

"Fuck no! I-I won't do it! Not if he _kills_ you!" Eric cried. The gun was still pointed at us—at me, but his hand was shaking too much to get a clear shot. Or maybe it was me that was shaking too much to get a clear view of the gun; it was hard to tell through the effort of keeping Cthulhu at bay. "Come with me, Butters. I-I can protect you. Let Cthulhu have Kenny and come back with me and Ike." His voice wavered with emotion.

"He _won't _give up," I snarled at Eric. "He's trying to take over my body—to kill Butters," I looked up at Cartman as I crushed Butters against me one last time. I could feel his tears soaking into my neck as he buried his face there. In that brief moment of clarity a thought struck. If Cartman shot me when Cthulhu was in my body, it might just take him with me. If not—at least Cthulhu wouldn't be able to lay a hand on Butters with me gone. It might be the only chance we had at stopping him—and I didn't have time to consider the options any further before Cthulhu managed to break my will.

"You have to shoot me!" Cartman's eyes were wide as he stood paralyzed with fear over the two of us. "_Now!_"

It was all up to Cartman now.

The last thing I can remember was the burning need to kill the boy who I'd fallen so in love with, and the pain of the bullet tearing through my chest.

Cthulhu must have tried to cast some kind of spell over South Park as he fell that night, for the last time. Cartman had done just like I'd hoped he would, and Cthulhu was gone—with only a single bullet. I think it had something to do with the Old One being in my body at the time Cartman fired that bullet—because like Damien said, only an immortal can kill an immortal. It was only thanks to the strange scroll that Butters had picked up in his dreams that I had been brought back at all. Just like it had done for Butters before me, the scroll had granted me the temporary ability to be reborn—my powers had disappeared along with Cthulhu, it seemed.

I wasn't going to test this theory, but when I was reborn that final time, there was a subtle difference in my being; as if a weight on my very soul was gone. And it felt _amazing_.

The scroll hadn't only protected me, though. Cthulhu had tried to destroy all of South Park along with us, casting a terrible spell in our intertwined dying breath to carry out his whims. If it hadn't been for the mystical abilities infused with the scroll he would have succeeded, I had no doubt.

It was heart wrenching to return to South Park to find things the way they had been, though. The way they were before Butters had ever stumbled into my life, I mean.

In an effort to protect us all the scroll had sent us as far back as it could before this all began—to the point that Butters never did find that ring at Clyde's party. To the point that we'd never met that afternoon at Kyle and Stan's house, and we'd never gotten the chance to become friends again.

I tried not to notice him when we passed one another on the street. Or when Karen started hanging out with Ike and, in turn, Butters. It was almost as if the universe was taunting me, telling me to take what was mine, even though clearly he wasn't. Butters had told me so himself on multiple occasions, although now I supposed that those conversations had never taken place.

Not in this dimension at least.

Henrietta was waiting for me the following night, just like she was every Thursday night, and she opened the door eagerly as I approached through the lawn. I still hadn't come up with the best way to explain the situation to her—to explain that Cthulhu was no more, and that we had succeeded without her being aware that she'd even participated in the slaying of an Old One to begin with.

"Mysterion! I found something inte—" I cut her off with a fierce hug, unable to contain the visions dancing behind my eyes of that night. She hesitantly patted me on the back, her Goth mindset unable to wrap itself around the idea of a friendly touch.

"Henri," I clutched her tightly in my arms, the feel of a warm body against my own more comforting than I'd originally thought it would be. "I need to tell you something." Before she had a chance to reply I pulled out of her arms, flipping my hood down and slipping my mask off in one fluid motion.

Henrietta stood motionless before me, her eyes roaming across my face at lightning speed before returning to meet my eyes. "Kenny McCormick." She was calmer this time than last, though a hint of betrayal was still evident in her tone.

"Yeah. I figured you should probably know. It's been me. It's always been me," I felt awkward standing in front of her without my mask on, her dark eyes so judgmental. I thought about what she told me last time, that I looked like an idiot without the mask. I gave her a grin and slipped the mask back on. "And my curse—it's gone."

That she could seem to find a voice for. "Gone _how_? Just like that? How do you know for certain?" The revelation seemed to make her forget that she was supposed to be mad at me for deceiving her this entire time, and she didn't protest when I spun her around with a hand on her shoulder and led her back into the house. It was way too fucking cold out to be standing on the porch, even if it was a beautifully clear night with all the stars out, illuminating the night better than the streetlamps themselves.

"This is going to sound, well, fucked up. Because it _is_." We settled into her room as usual, and I launched into my story as soon as she was sitting. "You were there the night it happened. The night that Cartman summoned Cthulhu—you remember Eric Cartman, yeah?" She nodded skeptically, "It's pretty complicated, but basically, Cartman summoned Cthulhu because he thought with his help they could bring Butters back to life." I had to pause at the mention of Butters and the things Ike and Cartman had told me about him, giving Henrietta enough time to speak.

"Butters Stotch? The faggy kid who works at the coffee shop? He _died_?"

"Yeah," I tried to keep my face neutral as I nodded. "Not in this dimension; thank God. But I always wondered why Cthulhu didn't kill me as a kid—I mean, I was _right there_ the entire time—and you helped us—Butters and I, figure out why." I was surprised she was listening as intently as she was, but then again, Henrietta was always the type to enjoy a good story. "He was waiting for the right time to use me. To use me to kill Butters—I think he's been trying to manipulate me my entire life, actually."

The ninja star incident stuck out in particular in my mind. Butters had been right when he'd told me that I was old enough to know better at that age. I _had_ known better. It was almost as if—as if I'd been possessed by some otherworldly power, and forced to try and kill him that afternoon. Although, it could have all been my imagination. I was a pretty fucked up kid. We all were, I think, coming from a town like South Park.

"Damn," Was all Henrietta managed to mutter as she chewed a nail absentmindedly. I could see her mind running circles at the overload of information, and waited for her questions, which were sure to come. "So, why do you remember all of this happening but nobody else does? Are you absolutely certain you haven't been slipped, like, LSD or some shit?"

"I'm sure." There was no way this pain in my chest was fake. "I think it has something to do with this," I still had the scroll, and I pulled it out now for her to see. She reacted now the same way she'd done before, snatching the cylinder from my open hand and turning it this way and that as she watched the iridescent metal with interest.

"I know what this is!" She exclaimed, opening the the cap and slipping the actual scroll from the container. "This scroll—where did you get this?"

"Butters picked it up. I'm still not sure _where_," I watched as she unraveled the membrane-like scroll and marveled over the hieroglyphs revealed. "I want you to keep it. It's done it's job for me; you'd get more out of it now than I ever will."

Her eyes flew to mine. "Are you sure? This is a priceless artifact."

"Think of it as payment for all you've done for me all these years."

Henrietta wasn't the type to wear her heart on her sleeve like I was, so when she pulled me into a hug I knew I'd done at least one thing right that evening.

It really shouldn't have surprised me that Stan and Kyle would hook up in this dimension as well. I mean, sure, the circumstances this time around were a little different, but those two were fucking destined to be together—destined in a different way than Butters and I were, hopefully. I made sure to smile brightly at the two of them when they came into the Photo Dojo with their hands clasped together, even though the sight of them looking so fucking happy was tearing me up inside.

"Kenny," Kyle smiled at me as they approached the register where I was sitting, slouched over on the tiny stool behind the counter.

"Hey, guys." I pretended not to notice the way that Stan's hands lingered on Kyle's side as they joined me at the counter, or the way that Kyle's normally sharp eyes softened when he glanced over at Stan at the touch. "So what can I do for you on this fine afternoon? You aren't here about this thing with Ike and Karen, are you? I swear, I'm going to strangle that kid if he doesn't quit trying to get her to smoke pot with him."

"Kenny," Kyle repeated. "We have something to tell you. You're the first—to know." He shifted his weight awkwardly, and I grinned. This was too good _not_ to milk for all it was worth.

"What is it? Oh god—don't tell me he's got her pregnant already."

"They've only been hanging out for a couple weeks, calm down." Stan looked at me skeptically, as if he knew exactly what I was up to.

"No! I must protect my sister's innocence! Your brother is a-a player!" Okay, so maybe I was reading too many of Karen's romance novels lately, judging from Kyle's near-horrified expression.

"Will you stop for ten seconds? We're trying to have a serious conversation with you." Stan frowned, crossing his arms.

"About what? The fact that you're gay? I've known for years. But it's great that the two of you have finally realized it for yourselves." I put my head in my hands and looked up at them with a little smile. The shock on their faces was too perfect.

"You knew? But—we—how?"

"I have a keenly developed gaydar. It helps me spot like-minded individuals," I tapped my head and gave them a wink. "Call me up if you're ever interested in hooking up, will you?"

"That's gross, Kenny! God, I don't know why we thought you would be the best person to come to." Kyle sounded genuinely upset, and I instantly felt bad.

"Really, I'm happy for you," I smiled as sincerely as I could muster at the time being. Both of them seemed to accept this without much trouble, and I made sure to tease the two of them when Stan leaned in to kiss Kyle gently.

The pair didn't hang around the shop long; I guess I was the first in a long line of people they were coming out to. Although I was sure they were going to hear a similar variation on what I'd already told them no matter where they went. Everyone in South Park was positive that the two of them were going to hook up sooner or later; there had been rumors going on about them since middle school—hell, there could have been rumors going on in elementary school—I can't remember that far back.

Either way, the sight of the two of them so clearly infatuated with one another only served to make me feel worse about my situation with Butters.

I figured the boss man wouldn't mind me closing up early to take a quick smoke break. Once Stan and Kyle were gone I was too full of anxiety to sit in the shop and wait all day for customers that weren't going to show up.

Grabbing my keys and jacket, my cigarettes tucked safely into the pocket, I headed out. Maybe you could call it fate, or destiny, or whatever, but I decided to go somewhere I hadn't gone in years.

You could see nearly all of South Park from the view over Phil Collin's Hill. The rebuilt city—I guess it hadn't ever been destroyed in this reality—was peaceful as another quiet afternoon began to give way to another quiet evening. The hill sits almost directly above Stark's Pond, and I remembered Butters mentioning once when we were kids that he liked to go up there when he was feeling sad.

It was a stupid reason to want to go up there; to have some connection to Butters even though he didn't remember anything about that night, or the weeks leading up to it.

Looking down at the city, in my current mood, was enough to throw me into a fit of nostalgia. Stark's Pond was frozen over as it usually was around this time of year, and the waning sunlight was reflecting off the ice and glittering brightly.

"Kenny McCormick?" I spun at the sound of my name being blurted out so insecurely. Butters was there, wringing his hands together and hardly meeting my gaze. I didn't know he still visited this place.

"Butters," I wasn't sure if he would recognize the longing I couldn't keep from slipping into my tone. If he heard it at all he didn't mention it; instead moving slowly to stand beside me on the top of the hill. "How are you?" I asked, since this was technically the first time I'd met him since he got back from school in LA.

He shifted his weight away from me, and I could tell he was fighting the urge to turn back. "I, uh, good, I suppose," I grinned wider at the red that dusted his cheeks. A silence descended over us; and I knew Butters was going to flee soon unless I took a chance.

"I hope Karen turns out as fucking amazing as you." I blurted out. I could feel Butters eyes burning into me, but I remained turned away, looking off into the rolling valleys of snow below. The tips of my ears had to be red, whether Butters would attribute it to the cold or embarrassment I wasn't sure.

"Like me? But..._why_?" The awe was noticeable in his tone. "I'm not really good at anythin', and the things I _am_ good at usually end up gettin' people killed. You don't want her to end up like me, honest." This time my gaze turned to his. The anger in my eyes made Butters take a step back, but I was there to grab his arm before he could get too far. I wasn't angry at him; I was angry at everyone in his fucking like, telling him that he wasn't _good enough_. "I-I'm not very smart, and most people don't like me—"

"Jesus _Christ_. Are you fucking_ blind_?" I said through gritted teeth. I stumbled over my words at first as I tried to explain myself to this kid who didn't remember anything we'd been through together. "You're—you're so fucking _perfect_, Butters! Even with all the shit we put you through as a kid—all the shit your parents put you through—I can't fucking believe how—how, _good_ you turned out." Butters was speechless as he looked at me with wide eyes. It probably seemed to come out of nowhere; but damn it, I wasn't going to let him slip away. "And who gives a fuck what anybody else thinks." I added as an afterthought.

"Well, I give a fuck," Butters mumbled anxiously.

"You shouldn't," I loomed closer into his personal space. "I want Karen to be as kind, and caring, and able to find the good in people like you can. I want her to see that the world isn't full of douche bags like our parents, and see that there _are_ people who aren't out to hurt you. I only wish I'd seen it before you left in the first place."

The wind nipped at our jackets and tossed our hair in every direction. Butters dropped his hands to his sides with a sigh.

"You're... you're _impossible_, Kenny—" I cut him off, sealing my lips over his. This was probably the end for us—for me—Butters was frozen beneath my touch. I don't know what I was expecting, honestly. I pulled away, releasing his arms and taking a half step back to give him some space.

"W-what makes you think I'm wantin' to hear all this stuff now?" Butters was flushed, his breathing heavy as he grabbed at his hair. "First you tell me you don't want anythin' to do with me, and then you go and—" Butters cut himself off, biting his lip in embarrassment.

"You can say it; go ahead," I urged. In the cold mountain air our breath mingled, the short white puffs from Butters lips intertwining with the breathy sign from my own.

"I'd rather not."

"I kissed you." I supplied, grinning cheekily when Butters gave a tiny nod. "And you liked it?"

He didn't respond at first, and for one frighteningly long moment I was sure he was going to push me away.

Then the thin pursed line of Butters' lips slowly upturned in a sincere smile.


End file.
